#well some of them offered to fix him
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mongo-the-liensis ¡ 5 months ago
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The AI, about Carl: I could fix them, but honestly whatever the hell is wrong with them is way funnier.
Carl: That's literally what all the gods think about me.
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quuuueto ¡ 3 months ago
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Late tien day I guess...
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tenwhiteandalusians ¡ 7 days ago
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and then no one said anything about the fact that if i watched ONE MORE episode tenax pulls a "i'm not angry i'm just disappointed i'm hurt" about scorpus signing with the white faction.
#do you see the vision here <- guy who has a watch rate of one episode per month#oh the implications of scorpus not being there for tenax in his time of need... the death of the child who is not but is symbolically their#is that a separate fic completely yes but it is ALSO in some ways a divorce fic. tenax like i needed you but scorpus also needing him#OH MY GOD THEY LITERALLY DO SAY FELIX WAS HIM and i can do SO much with the concept of a “stray”. oh please. please strays instead of rats#one knife to the ribs one fixed race one apartment board THAT'S A STORYLINE BABY RISE OR DIE THE ROMAN WAYYYYYY#i do see your calla/tenax storylines i do. i could be swayed but we are not here for that currently this is the same as the chariot racing#like i KNOW what i said about the gold faction representing everything that scares scorpus a dream he never thought they'd reach#and then to have it ripped away now he no longer even has the dream untarnished i do understand. which is why the “i'm disappointed”#kills me even MORE because it shows he gets it. like on some level he does understand why scorpus had to but it's his pride that's wounde#so to continue from what i WAS saying with:#sets the bar so low because how else would tenax love him (as if tenax would not do the same thing if he lost) and they have even MORE#questionable celebratory reward sex. yes i assigned scorpus a degradation/praise kink the world works in wondrous ways don't question it#scorpus/tenax#those about to die#tenax making sure to care for the kids is what's killing me too because i REALLY want to draw a parallel with scorpus making sure he takes#care of the prostitutes. yes he's a notorious hedonist yes he has a lot of sex but he always pays well doesn't he. over-well. he pays too#much and ends up in debt he pays enough to buy girls freedom. so that they only have to if they want to. it gets him a reputation sure AND#it gets whole houses of girls under his (and therefore tenax's) protection. you can't bruise her up; that's scorpus' favorite girl.#she can charge more for being favored. he can pay for massive parties where no one else is invited and if he falls asleep midway drunk#off his ass after a race the girls would never say. they still get paid. if tenax comes to watch and give instructions they'd never say.#if tenax tells them all to leave and it's just him and scorpus in the golden room and all the girls see before they shut the door#and latch it behind them is scorpus on his knees in the soft plush cushions with tenax offering him grapes one by one from his fingertips#like a favored concubine instead of the champion whose laurels are tilted on his head they won't say a word. not even when the noise#inside the room continues for long after the hour runs out the girls still stand watch until it's quiet and then crawl back in around where#scorpus is alone in the big wrecked bed with a smear of blood or wine on his mouth who could say. certainly they wouldn't.#no matter what they still get paid. whether they did the work to wreck him or not.#ANYWAY#they take care of the selves they couldn't protect is what i'm trying to say. for tenax it's the child he was/scorpus it's the body he sold#only he hasn't stopped having to sell it. & i guess as we're learning with the extortion tenax is still a child running from a burning hous
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sysig ¡ 5 months ago
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Everything day
#Had an Extremely long Game Day with smol today and I think it fixed my brain so that's great news#Past week has been rough!!!! Got hit with a semi-minor anxiety episode and a pretty serious depression episode to bookend last week#I'm all good it's just - took a bit out of me lol#Any number of things really too many to list so I'll just sum up as blegh - feeling better now#Started a new printing project!! Looking forward to that hopefully gonna do some test printing tomorrow#It Should work out well but pfbtl I can't count on my formatting skills for nonsense - shapes wtf are those#Been drawing <3 Been writing <3#Thinking quite very seriously about returning to doodle roots something awful#I tend to spend a Long Long time editing my stuff down by three different phases#Makes them very pretty! But I think I've had enough of that for the moment#New! Novelty! Needed and necessary and I'd rather Write about these than fuss more about how Pretty Or Not they are#They're pretty enough! I've made shapes on paper that previously didn't exist and now I can think about them as they are! Magic!#So that's the current plan - do still have One more step of editing to do before that lol but smol had offered me videos to listen to during#Good to have longer videos so I'm not constantly start-and-stopped#Oh and Pepper went into molt Again and just came out and he's genuinely gigantic now#And so dark! Handsome boy was a nice soft brown when we picked him up and so tiny small and now he's nearly black and huge#And so furry now he's definitely at least twice as fuzzy#Got him to eat - he was definitely hungry but he seems to be pacing himself still#Everything everything
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kbwrites ¡ 4 months ago
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Heated Waters
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synopsis: being married is hard, being married without seeing each other is even harder.
⚝ content: Hiromi Higuruma x F! Reader, nsfw, bathtub sex, fingering, Hiromi neglects his wife, but boy does he make up for it
⚝ wc: 1.9k
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“Yeah we do it pretty much every day.”
Satoru said, taking a leisurely sip of his water. His pale face alight with mischief, a shit-eating grin across his lips. His three coworkers stared at him in (jealousy) disbelief.
Suguru was the first to break the silence, wanting to save face “Everyday is a bit much, isn’t it, Satoru?”
Satoru chuckled, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as he watched his friend squirm. "What about you guys? How often do our married friends get it in?" His gaze flickered to Nanami, who cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, his eyes fixed on the steam rising from his coffee cup.
“Twice a week, I suppose…”
Satoru's smile widened, clearly entertained by the responses he was drawing out. He then turned his attention to the oldest among them, Hiromi Higuruma, who was carefully straightening his tie, a subtle attempt to avoid eye contact.
“What about you, Higuruma?”
“Your wife, (Y/N) is a little younger than you, right? C’mon Higuruma-San…She a total freak?” Satoru teased.
Hiromi's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his features as his grip on his coffee cup tightened. He took a slow, measured breath, his voice strained but controlled when he finally spoke.
“Please don’t talk about my wife like that.”
But Satoru, ever the instigator, didn’t back down. “It’s just us guys riiggght? And I can’t lie Higuruma, you’re one lucky guy. (Y/N) is a catch.”
Nanami nodded in agreement, as did Suguru, though both seemed to sense the discomfort growing in Hiromi. The older man could only sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the conversation.
It was true—you were everything he could have ever wanted in a partner. Beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted—his perfect match. If heaven existed, Hiromi was certain you’d be the only one worthy of it.
But long nights in the office, and early mornings preparing for court would take a toll on any relationship. The truth was… Hiromi hadn’t touched you in over a month. By the time he came home—you were fast asleep, and weekends were spent running the mountain of errands you couldn’t get to during the week. You loved each other of course, but it was hard. A month without feeling the warmth of your husband's hands all over your skin was starting to weigh heavily on both of you.
“You don’t have to answer Higuruma-san..” Nanami chimed in, sensing his elder colleague’s discomfort.
“Over a month.” Hiromi exhaled, the truth slipping out before he could stop it.
The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.
“WHAT?” Gojo audibly gasps. “Your wife looks like THAT and you haven’t f—”
Suguru swiftly cut him off with a well-placed elbow to the chest. “Satoru… leave Higuruma alone.” The long-haired male warns. “Still, that is surprising.”
“I know I know..” Higuruma pinches his bridge. He wanted nothing more than to have his wife under him… on top of him. But the endless stream of work kept him trapped in a cycle of exhaustion. “I’ve been so busy I can’t even remember the last time I actually spoke to her properly.”
Suguru offered an apologetic smile. “Sounds like you need a break.”
“Sounds like you need some puss—” Nanami quickly elbowed Satoru in the chest before he could finish his sentence.
Hiromi shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle as he ran a hand through his dark locks, clearly frustrated with himself. “I appreciate your concern, guys, but I don’t see how I can take a break right now. I have so much work to do, and I’m the only one who knows how to handle all of it.”
“Higuruma-San. Satoru will take care of the paperwork for you.” Nanami suggested with a deadpan expression.
“HUH?” Satoru blurted out, clearly caught off guard by the sudden assignment.
“Yeah,” Nanami continued, ignoring Satoru’s protest. “It’s not like he actually does any work around here anyway.”
Suguru smirked, nodding in agreement. “That’s true. You might as well make yourself useful, Satoru.”
Before Hiromi could protest, the trio moved in unison—Suguru grabbing Hiromi’s briefcase, Nanami steering him toward the door, and Satoru sighing dramatically as he resigned himself to the task.
“Are… are you boys sure about this? I don’t want to burden you–”
“Nonsense! Go home and take care of your wife!”
Hiromi placed his briefcase by the door, his tie feeling suddenly too tight around his neck. He loosened it with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he glanced around. The familiar scent of home greeted him. It was comforting yet bittersweet, a reminder of all the moments he had missed. The living room was tidy, the soft hum of the dishwasher running in the kitchen. You had clearly been busy, taking care of the house as you always did, even when he wasn’t around.
“Honey?” Hiromi calls out to you, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness.
Frowning, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before making his way down the hall. As he approached the bathroom, he noticed a faint light seeping out from under the door, accompanied by the sound of water gently lapping against the tub.
He hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened the door.
The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat. There you were, reclining in the bathtub, your eyes closed, head resting on the edge as steam rose around you. The soft glow of candles illuminated the room, casting a warm, serene light over your features.
You looked so peaceful, so beautiful—that it almost hurt to look at you. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he took in the sight, but the guilt and longing only deepened. How long had it been since he’d taken the time to appreciate you like this? Since he’d been able to just… be with you?
You opened your eyes, gaze meeting your husband as he leaned against the door frame.
“Hiromi?” you murmured, your voice soft, almost questioning, as if unsure whether he was really there or just a figment of your imagination.
“Hey Honey…” his voice equally soft, as he took a tentative step closer. The warmth of the room seemed to wrap around him, melting away some of the day’s stress.
“You’re home early.” You muse, looking at him as you rested your arms on the tub. He doesn’t respond, just walks towards you with purposeful steps.
Hiromi stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.“The guys decided I need a break.” He paused, his breath hitching slightly as he continued, “Can I join you?” A playful smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.
“Only if you take off your clothes this time.”
A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he unbuttons his dress shirt, letting each article of clothing fall to the tile floor. As he finally sheds his boxers before settling behind you. You exhaled softly, the tension you’d been holding onto for weeks dissipating as you sank into your husband’s embrace.
Hiromi didn’t waste a moment, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck, placing lazy, lingering kisses along the curve where your shoulder met your throat. His breath was warm against your skin, his kisses slow and unhurried, as if savoring every second, every inch of you.
His hands weren’t idle either, tracing gentle patterns along your stomach, moving upwards to cup your breasts with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He nipped lightly at your earlobe, his voice a husky murmur, “I’ve missed you… more than you know.”
“Missed you too ‘Romi..” Your voice trembling as the almost foreign heat began to pool in your core.
Deft fingers teased your nipples, rolling and pinching—eliciting a soft moan from your lips as your body arched into his touch. Your hand reached back, tangling in his dark locks, pulling him closer as his lips traveled down to your shoulder, his other hand snaking under the water to your aching cunt.
“ahhhh… s-shitt..” You cry out as Hiromi’s fingers slowly circle your swollen bud. His touch light, teasing.
“Thirty-two days… I’m so sorry m’love.” He mumbles into your shoulder as he slips a slender digit into your entrance. Your walls flutter immediately around the intrusion, as he gently pumped into you.
He adds another finger, curling up to the spot he had neglected all those weeks. He extended his thumb to rub your clit. You arch your back against him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass.
“Hiro…” you moan, reaching behind for him, but he bites down lightly on your shoulder.
“Not yet, pretty girl, want you t’cum first okay?”
He whispers as he feels your gummy walls clench around him.
He speeds up his ministrations, digits stuffing your cunt as your pussy throbs and squelches. Your whimpers echo around the tiled walls, water lapping around your bodies.
You feel the pressure building as each thrust of his long fingers brush against your g-spot.
“g-gonna cum!”
“Cum f’me sweetheart please—god… need it so bad.” Hiromi mumbles as he pumps even faster.
“a-ahh!” you cry as you reach your high, walls clenching as you cum on your husband’s hand. He removes his fingers from you, moving to gently circle your clit as you come down from your orgasm.
You both stay there for a moment, your heavy breathing the only sound occupying the space, mingling with the gentle slosh of water against the porcelain tub. Hiromi’s arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer.
Slowly, he lifted you, the warm water swirling around you both as he maneuvered you to face him, settling you on his lap. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your knees pressing against the cool sides of the tub.
You straddled Hiromi, your bodies now fully aligned, chest to chest. Your husband's dark, half-lidded eyes bore into yours, his expression a mixture of raw need and unspoken tenderness. He let his hands rest on your waist for a moment, thumbs tracing gentle circles against your damp skin as he took in the sight of you.
“I don’t know how I’ve stayed away from you for so long…” his voice breaking slightly as if the admission pained him.
Your breath hitched as you shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the tension between you intensify. Hiromi’s hands slid up your sides, his touch deliberate and slow, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as his lips finally found yours. The kiss was deep, full of hunger that had been simmering between you both for far too long.
His grip on your waist tightened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that left you dizzy with need.
Breaking the kiss, Hiromi leaned his forehead against yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
“I won’t make that mistake again.”
Without a word, he rose from the tub, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. Water cascaded down your bodies, pooling at your feet as he carried you toward the bedroom, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck.
He laid you gently onto the bed, your back sinking into the soft silken sheets, but Hiromi didn’t waste any time. His gaze darkening as he climbed over you, his body hovering just above yours, his eyes drinking you in like a man starved.
“I’m going to make up for every second I’ve missed.”
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rayveneyed ¡ 4 months ago
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nanami kento is the kind of man that makes people swoon without even realising it.
he's the kind of man to walk into a luxury store after work, suit jacket folded over one arm and a bouquet of flowers in the other -- his blonde hair still mostly perfect from the high-end pomade he uses. he scours the shelves, frowning to himself, while the attendants whisper and giggle amongst themselves near the tills -- an argument over who will be the one to talk to him, because he's intimidatingly pretty.
("just look at him," one whispers. "he's definitely buying something for a girlfriend."
"a wife," another disagrees. "c'mon. he's giving husband vibes."
someone hums. "but i can't see a wedding band."
"his mother, maybe?" says one other. "oh, i love when guys come in shopping for their mother."
"nobody's mother is getting a bouquet of a hundred red roses--")
eventually, one of them is volunteered as a sacrifice -- smiling and sweet as all attendants should be, she clears her throat. the others, crowded around the till, watch the exchange closely. "excuse me, sir. is there anything we could help you with today?"
her mouth is dry and her hands are clammy -- and when he fixes her with those narrow, burning eyes, her throat bobs.
"ah, yes." and his voice is deep and gravelly and drawling, and her stomach turns. she can only imagine what her coworkers are thinking -- hell, she can only imagine what she's thinking. her mind has stopped short. "my girlfriend likes this brand quite a bit. i thought i'd pick her up something..."
disappointment brews in her stomach -- and it's stupid, she knows it's stupid, because obviously a guy like that is taken. and -- she glances down at the roses -- obviously he treats her super fucking well. of course he does, because why wouldn't he? "oh, perfect! do you have anything in mind?"
"well, actually..."
he ends up buying one of the priciest gift boxes available -- fancy body care and perfume laid out in their signature boxes, decorated with ribbon and dried lavender -- no argument, no fight. he doesn't look for something cheaper, doesn't try to haggle or remove something to decrease the price. he adds, and adds, and adds -- and when she mentions a special offer at the till, a little add on for an extra 2000 yen, he accepts it readily. he inserts a black card into the card machine (of course, a black card), takes the beautifully wrapped bag, and thanks the girls for their services -- and just as he's leaving, his phone rings.
of course he answers the phone with hello, darling. of course he begins to ask his girlfriend about her day, the girls think with some amount of annoyance -- of course. maybe the curse of retail isn't entitled assholes expecting you to wait on hand and foot for them -- maybe it's the handsome men coming in to splurge on their girlfriends while you're painfully single and working for pennies.
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euthymiya ¡ 20 days ago
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The heater’s out. December’s cold is unforgiving as it seeps between the cracks of your doors and through the windows, forcing you to huddle closer.
Sukuna grunts as your freezing, icy feet press against his calves. “Your feet are fuckin’ cold. Get’em off.”
“No,” you whine, “You’re warm.”
Just to prove your point, you press them harder against his skin, making him hiss in irritation. “Quit it! It’s fucking freezing.”
“Yeah? Why are you wearing nothing but boxers in this cold, then?” You challenge, raising a brow as if you’ve sufficiently turned the tables on him. He glares at you—a bit cutely at that, given that his tussled hair and the blanket tucked beneath his chin both make him look far less intimidating than he hopes.
He pulls his legs away as he mutters, “Because I’m too used to sleeping like this.”
Your feet follow them as they move away from you, pressing them against his heated skin once more stubbornly. “To used to what, sleeping half naked? I wonder what that says about you.”
Money has been tighter. Enough that when you and Sukuna shower together, it really is to save water and not as an excuse for…well, other things. You don’t buy your little goods from the bakery on your way home sometimes anymore. He doesn’t go through his cigarette packs as quickly when stocking up on more isn’t as simple as it used to be. Things aren’t as easy as they used to be, but never hard.
It’s never hard with Sukuna.
Sure, the heater’s out. And December feels like a harsh, unrelenting reminder of that. The apartment is cold, but Sukuna is warmer, so maybe, when you count your blessings, you’re not doing all too bad.
“We should get the damn heating system fixed,” you say softly, smiling as he curls under the blanket further. He glowers over the edge of the comforter, just the tip of his nose peeking out as his muffled reply comes.
“Yeah, as if I hadn’t already thought of that. We ain’t got the funds, idiot.”
“Maybe I can pick up a few more shifts,” you murmur. He frowns at that—because really, that means more late nights where you’re not home where you should be. Safe and sound and not out there.
“Nah,” he mutters, clicking his teeth. You fight back a grin as he pulls you closer and tangles his legs with yours, grimacing when your painfully icy toes torment his poor legs again. This time he lets you, though. “I’ll figure something out.”
“That’s okay. You should use your money to get some clothes, or something. Sleeping naked in winter is not doing you any favors,” you giggle cheekily.
He raises a brow—that familiar, smug, almost nauseatingly handsome smile erupts across his lips as he chuckles lowly. “Yeah? You’re sayin’ you don’t appreciate the view?”
“Well, I guess that would be a pretty harsh loss,” you sigh deeply, pretending to wipe a tear. He rolls his eyes. You wink slyly. Heat trickles along your body from under your ribcage where the heating system could never reach.
“Cheeky, aren’t you?” He says gruffly, and a large hand comes to grab your face gently and press your cheeks together. Your puffed up lips make him crack a small smile.
“Mhm,” you nod, grinning (as much as you can through squeezed cheeks) before offering a muffled reply of, “I keep you on your toes, don’t I?”
“More like on my deathbed,” he snorts.
You don’t answer—it’s too cold to think of a reply right away.
You let out an involuntary shiver as a small wave of frigid, chilly air breezes through the room. You shuffle closer, and his arms are wide and open and waiting. He smells like cologne and coming home. Feels like warm flesh and your favorite place. You lean in and kiss him to share your body heat, pressing your lips against his and letting his tongue invade your mouth briefly. He tastes like mint mingled with cigarette smoke and oddly enough, that’s all you need.
“We kind of suck at this adulting thing,” you whisper as you pull away.
“What gives you that idea?” He hums as rough, callused fingers stroke the skin of your back under your shirt. You shiver again—this time from heat igniting your skin instead of the cold, though.
“We can hardly afford to stay warm,” you shake your head, “What does that say about us?”
“That we’re victims of this stupid fuckin’ economy. They should compensate us for our suffering.”
You roll your eyes and grin. You’re cold, but not devoid of heat. Sukuna is warm, and so are your toes against his calves, and so is that place in your chest that happens to do a squeeze here and there. You think it might be your heart—think he may have found his way to that weird, necessary organ in your body that keeps you going. But the difference is now that he’s here, you’re alive and not just living.
And yeah, the heater’s out. December is as cold as it is every year, and nothing’s going to change that. You can’t make yourself warmer, but you can be cold with Sukuna. That’s more than enough to make things bearable.
“I’ll keep you warm,” you offer, batting your lashes sweetly. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his cheeks in a flurry of kisses.
His face does a small, red flush.
“Quit it,” he snaps. He doesn’t mean it because his arms grip your hips tighter as if to keep you firmly in place. Right there where you are and where you belong and where he needs you to be.
You shouldn’t be anywhere else but here, keeping his body warm in this sorely harsh weather.
“Why? It’s already working—you’re overheating,” you tease.
He pulls the blanket up and between your faces to create a barrier as you come in for the next kiss, and when you laugh, bright and warm, he forgets he was ever cold.
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Wrote this bc my place is freezing. Not because the heater is broken though it’s just because I’m too lazy to get out of bed and turn the heat up so I am suffering the same problem yes, but I do have a solution. That doesn’t mean the solution will be used though. I fear I am but just a girl
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aemondsbabe ¡ 6 months ago
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Deliverance
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summary: following your nephew's death, you find aemond in need of comfort. as his older sister, who are you to deny him?
pairing: aemond targaryen x sister!reader
warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, canon typical incest, mentioned canon death, infidelity technically but reader's husband is cool with it and understands that she comes from a weirdo family cough cough incest cough, lactation kink, hurt/comfort, piv sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, titty sucking, angst but happy ending, otto cameo ew, let me know if i missed anything!
word count: 7.4k
a/n: *slams fist on table* i need for him to suck on my boobie
likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!
gif creds to @feodor-dostoevsky
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“Shall I fetch Maester Orwyle once we return to your chambers, Princess?” Your handmaiden, Edyth, questions as the two of you make your way up one of the many winding staircases in the Red Keep – each step making you wince. 
“Yes, please,” you sigh, ever grateful that she had always seemed to have a knack for predicting your requests before you had the chance to voice them, “Perhaps tell him to prepare some of the same soothing balm he gave to Helaena?” 
“Of course, Princess,” Edyth nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, ever the optimist, “I believe it should help with your aches, I remember it seemed to help the Queen after…” She trails off, breath hitching in her throat.
A heavy silence seems to fall over the two of you, the same that had been blanketing the entirety of the palace for the past few days. You swallow thickly, battling against the lump suddenly growing at the back of your throat and merely nod your head in simple understanding, offering her a tight-lipped smile, “I’m sure it will be of great help, Edyth, thank you.” 
Ever since… it had happened, the Red Keep feels as if it’s made of eggshells, like one small gust of wind could knock it right over. Everyone’s so on edge, terrified of saying too much or too little, the wrong thing at the wrong time. The stress of it all seems nearly suffocating, though you still have a feeling the worst was yet to come. 
Suddenly, someone calls your name from behind you and you turn, smiling once you see your grandsire striding toward you.
“A raven arrived earlier from Gwayne,” Otto explains, deep voice carrying down the empty hallway, “He’s reached Oldtown safely, everything seems to be well there.”
“Oh, wonderful,” you nod, grateful for news of your husband.
“Indeed,” he continues, “Daeron seems to be in good spirits, happy to come home; they’re to depart tomorrow, as scheduled… forgive me, I meant to tell you before supper but it seems to have slipped my mind.”
“Everything has been so hectic of late, please don’t trouble yourself. He arrived safely and will be back all the sooner for it, that is what matters.”
“Of course,” Otto nods, glancing out a nearby window, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve been ordered to attend to His Grace,” he says gruffly, a wry smile on his lips, nodding in the direction of Aegon’s chambers.
You nod at the mention of your twin, brows pinching together with worry. “Be… patient with him, grandsire, please,” you beseech, chest heaving with a soft sigh, “I spoke with him earlier this morning, he’s… well, he’s not himself.”
“Are any of us anymore, I wonder,” Otto mutters, fixing you with a tight smile before taking his leave, striding quickly down the hallway. Your brows furrow at that, you can’t help but throw Edyth a questioning look before the two of you continue toward your chambers. 
“Seven Hells,” you grumble, quickly bringing a hand to your breast as you climb another, blessedly shorter, set of stairs, “Perhaps check the nursery first, yes? Daena may be stirring still…” You know better, even as the words leave your lips. 
Your daughter has finally begun sleeping soundly through the night recently and while that is cause for celebration, you certainly won’t miss the past eight moons of late night feedings, your poor breasts are paying the price – your body not yet caught up with the lessened need for milk. 
“Yes, Princess,” Edyth replies with a little nod, walking alongside you.
The two of you are almost at your chambers, finally turning onto the hallway where the family apartments are housed, when you hear it – a muffled, barely there cry. The sound makes you pause in your tracks, head swiveling, unsure of exactly where it came from and it’s then you notice that the door to Aemond’s chambers is ajar. 
That in and of itself is strange indeed, your little brother valued privacy above all else, so you stride over only to pause at the entrance, hand poised midair as you reach for the door handle. Your heart clenches when another soft sob pierces the quiet of the hallway – a mournful little noise, one you’d expect more from Aegon. 
Turning back to Edyth, you lead her a few feet from the door, knowing Aemond would hate it if he knew someone, anyone aside from you, had overheard him. “Go to the nursery,” you instruct, making sure to keep your voice low, “Make sure Daena is well, then you’re free for the evening.” 
“But, princess, what about –”
“Nevermind it,” you murmur with a shake of your head, “I’ll send for the maester later myself.”
With a nod, she scampers off further down the hallway, leaving you alone by your brother’s door. Stepping back over toward the threshold, you bite at your bottom lip, wondering if you should go in at all – if it would be more merciful to simply pretend you hadn’t heard anything at all. 
But then it happens again, another pitiful sob sounds from beyond the cracked door and you’re unable to help yourself – Aemond had always come to you with his troubles when he was younger, surely now would be no different. With a little breath, you push the door open just enough to slip through it and thank whichever Gods may be listening when you’re able to press it closed with hardly a sound. 
Peeking around the screen your brother has beside the door, it feels as if your heart shatters in your chest. He looks so… small, so fragile, the complete opposite of the towering, formidable man he’d become in recent years. It’s clear he didn’t hear you come in as he stays seated in a chair near the door, his back to you; his shoulders shake with gentle cries while he hunches over, head cradled in his hands. 
The disarray of his normally spotless chambers startles you once you let your eyes flit over the space – papers are strewn about all across the low table he keeps in the little sitting area, some scattered across the floor, crumpled up, or ripped to pieces. His bedsheets are halfway ripped from the bed and lie in a pool at its foot, along with the remnants of a candle, now merely a translucent puddle on the dark stone floor. 
Taking a step forward, you softly call his name, trying your hardest to keep your voice as low and soft as possible, though you’re hardly able to get the first syllable out before he bolts up from the chair with a strangled gasp and spins toward you. 
“Oh, Aem,” the words fall past your lips in a soft sigh, pulled from you by the startled expression on his face – eyes wide with the fear of being caught so vulnerable. His sapphire eye seems to sparkle with just as much emotion as his pale purple one. 
“Sister, I –” He starts, hastily wiping his hands over his cheeks, chest heaving while he tries to calm his harsh breaths, but you’ll have none of that.
“Shh, whatever excuses you have, I’ll not hear them,” you murmur, quickly walking the few feet over to him and enveloping him in a tight embrace, just as you used to do when he would come crying to you about the tortures Aegon or your nephews put him through in their youth.
Your brother stays stiff in your arms for a moment, tense and wary, though he slowly relaxes as you rub a hand over his back, smoothing out his long hair. You yourself relax once he finally winds his long arms around you and rests his chin on your shoulder with a soft sigh, the tension in his shoulders finally releasing. 
“Tell me what distresses you so?”
“I… Jae– the boy,” he stammers, stumbling over his name. You understand, just saying your little nephew’s name seems to somehow make the pain of the loss even worse. Yet, something in your gut tells you there’s something else going on, that Jaehaerys’s death is not the only thing causing your brother such anguish.
“Aemond…” you gently press, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek as you pull back just enough to meet his gaze, “I cannot help if you won’t tell me–”
“Tell you what?” He counters, tone growing too defensive too quickly, “My nephew’s death brings me sorrow, sister. The loss of a young child is a… distressing thing.”
“You know that’s not what I mean!” You counter, trying desperately to keep your voice calm, even when Aemond backs away from you with an exasperated sigh. You’re no stranger to this game – ever since he lost his eye, your brother has guarded his emotions carefully. Getting him to speak honestly about them was about as hard as keeping a bottle of Dornish wine from Aegon’s grasp. 
He gives you a sidelong glance as he paces about the room, lips pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched. Worry only blooms brighter in your chest the longer you watch him; so agitated and so guarded, closed off like an abused animal. 
“It… it’s nothing,” he mumbles finally, voice short and clipped, “Nothing important, sister, I assure you.”
Unconsciously, you wring your hands worriedly, heart clenching; you want nothing more than to reach out and comfort him, yet you know from experience that it was better to let Aemond come to you. 
“Well, surely it cannot be nothing if it has upset you so, sweetling.” 
His nervous pacing comes to a screeching halt at that and he squeezes his eye shut, fists clenched at his side – his whole body tense like he’s trying desperately to keep some invisible dam within himself closed. 
You reach a hand up instinctively when he bites at his bottom lip and turns his head away from you, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. “I–,” he croaks, the tightness in his voice makes your breath hitch in your throat; every maternal cell in your body is screaming at you, pleading with you to hold him, “I don’t w-wish to burden you.”
“Baby brother,” you sigh, finally going to him, practically running the few feet over to where he stands. Your arms encircle him instantly, pulling him into a tight embrace – one hand rubs over his back while the other cups the back of his head, holding his face against the crook of your neck, “You could never be a burden to me, never.”
That seems to break him and he gasps, breathing warm against your neck, before he finally lets go and his shoulders heave with sobs while his hands cling to you desperately, fisting into the fabric of your gown like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. A tightness grows at the back of your own throat, not used to seeing him be this raw, this open, in what feels like lifetimes. It breaks your heart to think he’d been holding all of this in, determined to be the strong, silent soldier like everyone expected, while he dealt with such sadness all alone. 
“Shh, shh, Aemond, you’re okay,” you murmur gently, eyes widening when he sags against you, his knees giving way only for a second. “Here, come,” you instruct, taking one of his hands in yours and leading him to the small seating area in his chambers. You urge him to sit on the sofa he has there before joining him yourself, a bit surprised when he all but throws himself against you again – practically laying his head in your lap as he sobs, cheek pressed against your chest in a way that makes you wince from the tenderness still there, not that you’d ever scold him for it. 
“There, that’s much better, hm? Comfortable?” You ask, simply trying to draw him back to the surface. 
He doesn’t reply, something that doesn’t really come as a shock to you given how harsh his cries are, leaving him breathless against you. Deciding to let him get it out, you stay quiet, merely shushing him every so often as you run your fingers through his pearlescent hair.
After a long while, he seems to settle some and tears begin running down his cheeks silently rather than racking his body with savage cries; he lifts his head from your lap and rests it instead against your shoulder, gazing up at you as if you’re an angel sent from the heavens themselves. The intense tenderness with which he looks at you makes you blush, yet your brows furrow slightly at the darkness still there – lingering in the lilac of his eye. 
“I have… I have done something terrible.”
Your brother's murmured confession only serves to confuse you further and you shake your head slightly, heart clenching in your chest as you silently wonder what in all the Seven Kingdoms he could possibly mean by that. 
“Aemond,” you start, knowing not to pry – to let him tell you, “There is nothing you could ever do that would make me think any less of you.”
He stares up at you for a long moment, eye flicking across your face like he’s checking for even the barest hint of deception, yet he finds none – your words are true. 
“You… promise me you will not hate me.”
“I promise, sweet brother,” your brows pinch together at his words, wondering what could possibly be bad enough for all this, yet you can’t stop the corners of your lips from quirking into a sad smile at his request; that uncertain lilt in his voice reminds you so much of when he was younger, “There’s nothing you could do that would make me hate you. Nothing.”
“I…” He starts, pulling away from you as he sits up, sparing you one last glance before staring off into the fireplace, “I am the… the reason Jaehaerys is dead.”
“What?” The word is pressed from you, leaving your lips as little more than a breath. You stare at him as if he’d sprouted a second head, utterly perplexed. How in the Seven Hells could he have ever arrived at that conclusion? Taking one of his hands in yours, you lean a little closer, “Sweetling, what in the world do you mean?”
“They were here for me,” Aemond rasps, wincing as if the words themselves are painful, clawing at his throat on their way out, “They were… Gods, they were sent for me and – and when they couldn’t find me, they… H-He died because I was not here, because they could not f-find me…”
“Oh, my love,” you sigh, the backs of your eyes stinging as he presses himself against you again, tucking his head into the crook of your neck, “Aemond, you couldn’t have known, none of us did. You couldn’t have known…” You repeat, like saying the words again and again will make him believe them. 
“I s-should have,” he whimpers, voice breaking over a sob, “I should’ve k-known, I sh–should’ve been here…”
You hold him tightly, practically hauling him onto your lap as his tears leak over your skin, running into the valley of your cleavage like a river, though you pay it no mind. “Shh, sweetling, shh,” you murmur and press a soft kiss to his forehead, “It’s not your fault, dear one, it’s no one’s fault but the vile men who took him and our… our coward of a sister who ordered it done.”
He stays silent for a moment and you can feel the gears in his brain turning, working furiously as he tries to internalize your words, wanting desperately to believe them but unable to let himself. You sigh softly when you feel him shake his head against you, so determined to cling to guilt. 
“If… if I had n-not been at the…” 
“At the where, brother?” You press, clinging to anything you may be able to use to shift the conversation. 
“...The brothel…” he mumbles after a long pause, the words so muffled against the column of your neck that you have to strain to hear them. His words shock you, the complete opposite of anything you’d been expecting. You try your hardest not to let that show, even as a strange sense of jealousy wells up within you – a sense of possessiveness you’ve always felt for your little brother.
“Well, you… you are a man grown, my love,” you heart hammers in your chest, loud enough that you wonder if he can hear it, “If you wish to lay with–”
“I didn’t… I–” He stammers, clinging to you tightly as he shakes his head, an urgency in his voice you can’t quite place, “That’s not what, I… I mean, I–”
“No matter,” you cut him off, aching to see him so distressed, “Whatever you do there, sweet brother, it’s your… right to do it.” You struggle to get the words out, the sense of protectiveness rising viciously in your chest makes your throat feel tight. 
He lifts his head from your shoulder again and eyes you for a long moment – for what, you aren’t sure. It’s almost like he’s surprised not to be meant with disgust or contempt; you wish you knew why.
“It doesn’t matter,” he finally mumbles, glancing away from you, ashamed, “I should’ve been home… I should’ve been here to protect my family.”
“Aemond, please,” you sigh and sit up slightly, moving to cup his cheeks in your hands, wiping at his tears with your thumb, “It is not your job to protect us, we have guards for a reason… if anything, this atrocity is their fault but it is not yours, do you understand?” Your eyes bore into his as you speak, desperate to make him understand, to rid him of this misplaced guilt. 
“Do… do you still love me?” He asks after a long moment, voice so timid, so meek like he’s already preparing himself for your rejection, that it makes your heart twist horribly in your chest. 
Still, you cannot help but huff out a little laugh, lips lifting into a sad smile at the utter ridiculousness of the question. “You are my dearest brother,” you murmur, leaning forward to press a kiss against his forehead, letting your lips linger on his skin for a second, “Of course, I still love you, Aemond. I have loved you from the moment you came into this world and I shall never, never stop – the Gods themselves could not make me.”
The two of you are quiet for a moment, save for a small hum from your brother as he nods. His arms encircle you again and selfishly, you enjoy it – being this close to him again, like he was a little boy once more. He’d been all but attached to you at the hip before that dreadful night, following you about the Keep and telling you all sorts of tales about various histories of the Realm in that sweet voice of his. 
All of that had stopped that night and, at first, you had assumed that he merely thought himself a man grown afterwards – a man who had finally claimed a dragon, a man who no longer needed comfort from an older sibling. The sadness in his voice when he speaks again, muffled against your shoulder, tells you otherwise.
“Mother doesn’t love me anymore,” his voice is flat and detached as he breathes out the words, like he’s informing you of some tragic, unavoidable accident. 
“Aem, of course she does. She loves you very–”
“No,” he cuts you off, sitting up once more and shaking his head, “Ever since that business with Luke, I… she can hardly bring herself to look at me. She won’t speak to me outside of Small Council meetings and even then she tries not to, ‘tis plain to see.”
You open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes, leaving you to swallow around the lump that grows at the back of your throat once again. What are you to say? He’s… Gods, bless him, he’s right, you’ve seen as much to know. 
“You are the only one who has never abandoned me,” he starts, eye sparkling in the candlelight as tears begin welling up within it once more, “Everyone else has left.”
“That’s not…” Your voice fades as you sigh, knowing that arguing with him now will do no good. Instead, you simply hold him tighter and brush a few stray locks of hair from his face. “I can promise that I shall never leave you, sweet brother.”
He grows quiet for a moment, slumping down against you until his head rests in your lap and his body curls up onto the sofa. Silently, you resist the urge to cradle him, to hold him against you as you do Daena when she wakes from a nap with a start, crying out from her cradle. 
He is a grown man, you remind yourself, yet it does nothing to stop the strange ache in your heart. 
“They all used to taunt me, surely you remember, when we were younger,” he mumbles, eye fixated on the fire crackling in the hearth, even as he clings to you, “First for not having a dragon, then for not having an eye.”
You hum in affirmation – you do remember it, sadly. You remember it all very well; he had slept in your chambers for a week after the incident with the pig, not wanting to be left alone at night with the memories of it. You remember having to hold him back at the table when Aegon had poked fun at his eyepatch during supper, about a month after his eye had been gouged out. 
You remember that night too, when he’d come to you with tearful apologies, murmuring sorries again and again for accidentally nicking your hand while trying to brandish a knife against his brother. 
“I have always been an outcast.”
A smile tugs at the corners of your lips despite the circumstances and you sigh softly, brushing your fingers through his long strands of hair, “I quite like you being different… perhaps if you weren’t, we wouldn’t be as close, hm?”
Aemond goes quiet at that, stills in your lap with a little sigh before simply burrowing against you even more, curling in on himself tighter. 
A soft coo leaves your lips, strands of his long hair passing between your fingers like silk. “What say you stay with me tonight, yes?” You offer, the thought of him in the dark carrying all this alone grief makes you feel ill, “We could even cuddle, if you like? Just as we did when you were younger.”
A short beat of silence later, all you get is a little, “Yes, please,” mumbled against your abdomen. 
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“I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs later, the two of you finally lying together atop your bed, cuddled closely against one another just as you’d promised. You’d each taken time to get ready for bed and Aemond seems a little better for it, no longer as distressed and teary now that he’s had the time to collect himself. 
Your hand carefully cups the side of his face that isn’t pressed against your pillow, that isn’t buried in the crook of your neck, as an astonished huff of laughter escapes your lips as they curve into a sad smile, your brows furrowed. “Why in the world would you think such things?” Even as the question is whispered into the quiet of your chambers, you know the answer – Aemond has always been this way, always one to reject comfort, even when it is so freely given, even when he himself seeks it out. 
If only he could see himself as you do. 
“I… I have done so many shameful things, sister, I…” His voice breaks when he cuts himself off and you can feel him tense in your hold, “‘Tis the simple truth, I don’t deserve you.”
You hum softly, combing your fingers through his hair while you mull over his words, silently wondering why he has always been like this – why you have always felt so unworthy of softness and kindness and love. 
“Well, it is not my truth,” you murmur after a moment, eyes flicking over the long line of his body, hidden by your silken bedsheets. In the time each of you had taken to ready yourselves for bed, you had changed into a nightgown and he into a simple nightshirt, leaving your bare legs to tangle together, “Would you like to know what I think, my love?”
You feel him inhale against the crook of your neck, sucking in air like he’s steeling himself for disappointment, yet he still lifts his head and peers up at you. His lilac eye searches your face for a long moment, looking for even the smallest indication of displeasure in your features, only to find none. 
Seemingly satisfied with his assessment, assured that surely whatever you were to say would not hurt him too badly, he nods. 
Sitting up just enough to better see his face, you look at him with nothing but adoration as the two of you rest shoulder to shoulder, backs against the headboard. “I believe you deserve every kindness in the world, Aemond. And I believe even that would be too little,” your voice is hardly a whisper when you speak, like this is the deepest of secrets meant only for his ears, “You deserve nothing but happiness, sweet baby brother.”
He stares at you for a long moment, eye wide and glassy while his chest aches as your words seep into him like a soothing balm. You can see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows, eye squeezing shut for a moment while he processes your words – so sweet they nearly stung. 
A soft coo bubbles from your lips when you see his chest rise and fall rapidly beneath the linen of his nightshirt, and you lean into him all the more when one of his hands reaches out and grabs one of your own, squeezing it like it’s a lifeline. 
“Shh,” you soothe, giving him a sad smile when his eye finally opens again, gaze immediately finding yours, “Sweet boy.”
He lets out a shuddering breath before looking away from you once again, mind reeling. Not knowing what to do, overcome with so much emotion his heart feels as if it’s adrift at sea, he brings your hand up and presses a soft kiss against your knuckles before holding it to his cheek and sucking in another little breath as his bottom lip trembles. “Please don’t ever leave me,” he whispers finally, voice tight and hoarse. 
Cupping his face, you caress your thumb over the scar beneath his eye softly and lean over just enough to press a soft kiss against his cheek. “I will never leave you, Aemond, I swear it.”
He shudders once more before letting out a shaky breath, eye filled with a wild desperation. Before you can register the movement, his hands are suddenly gripping at your waist and hauling you onto his lap, your legs on either side of his, as he buries his face into the crook of your neck once more, apologies already muffled against your skin. “I-I’m sorry, I – Gwayne will… will hate me but –”
“Shh, sh, sh, sweetling,” you murmur, despite the small, barely audible gasp that leaves you at the sudden movement, so wholly unused to this as half of you tries desperately to comfort you while the other half wonders if you should put a stop to this, “Gwayne knows, my love, he… it’s okay, he knows.”
A sob is wrenched from Aemond’s lips, warm against your neck, but he nods nonetheless, sighing when you begin carding your fingers through his hair once more, smoothing out the long, pale strands. Slowly, he relaxes again, arms wound securely around your waist while his breath evens out. 
You’re about to say something else, though your breath hitches in your throat when he begins peppering your neck with soft, chaste little kisses – feather-light down the column of your neck. He stops after a second, noticing you tense up on his lap, eyes wide as a million thoughts swirl in your mind: Is this okay? Should you stop this? This is your precious baby brother, the one who used to cling to your skirts when he was sad, who used to come to you in the night when he woke from a nightmare… 
He leans forward once more and nips at your earlobe, making your heart stutter in your chest, “Can… can I try something?”
Your head reels at the sudden change in his touches, needier now, though for an entirely different reason, yet still your mind reels – piqued with curiosity. “What is it you wish to try?” You question after a moment, voice scratchy from the sudden dryness at the back of your throat. 
Silently, Aemond relishes this; something about you, you his normally strong and carefree older sister, being this flustered because of him makes his heart flutter in his chest. Dipping his head, he resumes pressing soft kisses against your skin, though they linger now – teeth nipping before he soothes the small bites with a swipe of his tongue, drawing ever closer to the pulse point in your neck that beats so wildly he can feel it beneath your skin. 
“Aemond!” You all but wheeze when he suddenly grabs at your hips, his own firmly bucking up against you. A shock goes down your spine at the evidence of his arousal pressing against you, two thin layers of fabric doing precious little to mask the feel of it. Again, you tense up, practically jumping out of your skin as you pull back just enough to gaze down at him, your eyes wide, blinking rapidly, as they search his. 
This was the last thing you expected tonight, the last thing you’d expect from him at all. “Wha – I…” You stammer, dumbstruck while worry and uncertainty cloud your mind. 
Aemond shushes you now, long fingers squeezing at your bare thighs now that your nightgown has ridden up enough to reveal them. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumbs soothingly against your skin, “Do you trust me…?”
Your throat bobs as you swallow thickly, heart hammering in your chest. You should be the one comforting him… what in the Seven Hells has happened? Is… is this the comfort he needs now?
Even still, you nod your head at his question; of course you trust him, you’d trust him with anything… even this. 
A smile grows on his lips when you acquiesce, a pleased glimmer in his eye when he lifts his hands to your hips again, his grip firmer this time. “Good… good, sweet sister,” he hums lowly, rutting his hips up against you once more, lilac eye watching you with keen interest. 
“A-Aem…” You gasp once more, the feel of him against you so intense it sends a shiver down your spine, even when your brows furrow as your eyes flutter, threatening to slip shut. His movements press a small whimper from your lips and you can feel the sting in your cheeks as they flush, chest heaving while your hands grab tightly at his shoulders. 
The smug look on his face slowly morphs into one of wonder and his eye flits over your face greedily, like he doesn’t want to miss a single second of seeing you like this – already so strung out over him. 
He moves again, the feeling of your soft core pressing against his growing length through the thin linen only serving to drive his urges further. “Gods, you look so beautiful like this…” He murmurs, in awe at having you like this, and all to himself. Unable to help himself, he leans forward yet again and pulls you closer as his lips settle once more against your neck. 
Instinctually, your head tilts to the side, giving him room to kiss over your skin. His movements against you cause you to shiver in his grasp, even if a small part of you was still uncertain, hoping this wouldn’t change your relationship with him for the worse. 
The slow grind of his hips causes his nightshirt to eventually ride up his legs as well, and you gasp anew, jumping once more when his length suddenly presses against your center, unhindered by fabric. 
“Feel what you do to me?” He purrs, letting out a low groan of his own. 
For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, lips parted ever so slightly while your chest heaves, silently wondering if this is truly happening. Almost imperceptibly, you nod your head, shuddering at the feeling of his cock pressed against you, already twitching. 
“L-Little brother,” you gasp, breathless already.
Aemond smirks at your response, your whimpers and soft gasps going right to his head. He grabs at your waist still, bucking against you in slow, almost teasing movements. A low, pleased hum vibrates him in his chest when he feels how wet you are against him – the heat radiating from your center nearly stifling. 
The longer this goes on, the more you can feel your resolve crumbling, any small bits left of you that wanted to put a stop to this slowly fading away. Distantly, you can’t help wondering if this is how it’s always been meant to be, if this was the only logical conclusion your paths could reach, the outcome of such a close bond. Perhaps, you have always been made for this. 
“Aemond,” his name falls from your lips in a soft sigh and you finally lean against him heavily, pressing your chest against his unthinkingly. “Shit!” You gasp only a second later, jolting as if stung by a bee, brought back to reality by the ache in your breasts. 
“Sister?” Aemond questions, freezing beneath you while he looks over your face, his hands rising to cup your cheeks protectively. 
You start to answer, to explain, when you feel a sudden tingling sensation at your chest and, judging from the look on your brother’s face, an explanation would be a moot point by now anyway.
“Gods grant me mercy,” he sighs, eye wider than you’ve ever seen it as he stares, near open-mouthed, at your chest. Glancing down, your cheeks flush at the sight of milk dampening the linen at your breasts, leaving it all but translucent. 
Again, you go to explain, only to stop yourself in your tracks when his tongue darts out, licking over his bottom lip. Your head spins when you notice his chest heaving as he stares at you with a nearly savage hunger, eyes fixed on your breasts like his universe has been narrowed down to a pinpoint. 
“Aemond?”
“Please,” he groans, swallowing thickly and licking over his lips once more, practically salivating. His eye flicks up to yours for only the briefest of seconds before zeroing in on your chest once more, “Sweet… sweet sister, please.”
Again, the energy in the room seems to shift, Aemond once again begging you for comfort, bowing to your whims. Quickly, you shush him while one hand threads into his hair once more as you bring his head back against the crook of your neck, settling him there while he groans against your skin, rough hands slowly trailing up your waist before halting at your ribs. 
Your other hand busies itself with snaking between the two of you and impatiently batting your clothes away before your fingers finally curl around his length, causing the both of you to let out soft cries. 
“Shh, sweetling,” you coo, chest heaving while you position him at your entrance, sighing as he desperately mouths at your neck, “I know what you need, I’ve got you.”
Again, twin moans fill your dimly lit chambers when you slowly sink down on him. Whimpers are punched from your lungs at the feel of him steadily filling you, his chest rumbling against yours as he groans deeply, hips jolting beneath you. 
“Gods,” you sigh when your hips are finally pressed tightly against his once more, panting and letting your eyes fall shut while you give yourself a moment to adjust. 
The feel of him borders on overwhelming – pressed so tightly inside of you, around you, the very air in your room filled with the heady, herbaceous scent of the bath oils you know he favors. You imagine he must feel the same as he trembles beneath you, fingers and hips twitching with barely contained desire. 
Finally, your need to comfort him, to protect him even from himself, rears its head again and you relish the breathy sigh that leaves him as you begin to move your hips. It’s a grinding motion, soft and gentle – what he needs now, to be treated with care. Still, the movements send shockwaves up your spine as the pale hairs at the base of his cock rub perfectly against your pearl, creating a delicious friction to spur you on. 
“So good,” he breathes, warm against your shoulder as he leans forward, kissing at your neck, “You feel so good, sister, you… you are s-so good to me…”
“Just as you deserve,” you murmur, combing your fingers through his long hair once more before your hands travel down to the hem of his nightshirt and you begin impatiently tugging at it, pulling it over his head and grinning at the soft, nearly petulant, whine he gives at having to separate from you even for a second. 
Still, some instinctual force seems to drive you, a need to feel his skin against your own, and you waste no time before pulling your own nightgown up and over your head as well, leaving nothing to separate the two of you. 
The groan that leaves him when your chest presses back against his own once more is like nothing you’ve heard before – a sound of the purest relief, like he’s found some oasis in the desert. His eye opens again and the rhythm of your hips stutters only for a second once it finds yours. The lilac is almost completely overtaken by black and yet, he still regards you as if you are an angel sent from the heavens themselves, stares at you with such reverence that your heart flutters in your chest. 
Something clicks for you then as he whimpers beneath you, his own hips beginning to buck up against your own as the lazy tempo you’ve settled into slowly starts to pick up. You understand, now, that this is merely another step, an added turn, in the so carefully balanced dance the two of you have constructed.
And if this is what he needs to be comforted, then you’re more than happy to give it. 
“My good boy,” sigh, moving against him with renewed vigor, grinning when he lets out a hitched moan, “Is this what you needed?”
“Yes, y-yes,” he nods, his eye never leaving your own as he ruts beneath you, the choppy movements only adding to the fire slowly building within your veins, “Please, sweet sister, please…”
You don’t need to ask to know what it is he means, nodding before he has time to stutter out another word, “Take what you need, my love.”
Another breathy groan sounds from him as he quickly descends onto your chest, tilting his head down and immediately capturing your sensitive nipple between his lips, one hand coming up to gently cup your breast, holding it steady. The feeling of relief that flows through you when he starts suckling is nearly disorienting, the dull ache in your breast slowly fading away with each mouthful of milk he pulls from you, greedily taking a few mouthfuls from one breast before switching to the other.
Your fingers stay anchored in his hair while your hips work against him, your high building more steadily within you now that your breasts no longer feel ready to burst. You pant as you gaze down at him, eyes half-lidded while you watch his lips move against you, lilac eye still fixated on you. 
Below you, Aemond is halfway convinced he’s died and somehow the Gods have seen fit to spare him the Seven Hells. His head spins as he drinks from you, the taste of you by far the sweetest, most decadent thing he could fathom. As the knot in his belly grows ever-tighter, his suckles become more greedy, frantic, not knowing whether you’ll allow him this pleasure ever again. 
“Please, f-fuck,” he sighs, the words punched from his lips as he pulls away from you just enough to speak, uncaring as dribbles of milk leak from the corners of his lips, staining your skin. His hips practically move on their own accord as he mindlessly grinds up into you, seeking out the warmth and safety he knows he shall only ever feel within you. 
Above him, you nod, swallowing thickly against the dryness at the back of your throat, cheeks flushed while you watch him unravel. Snaking a hand between your bodies once more, your fingers quickly find your sensitive, aching bud and rubbing at it with a practiced precision. 
“Gods, sweet little brother,” you breathe out, pleasure zapping down your spine. You frantically nod again, frantic this time, just as your high washes over you, “Come, Aemond… Gods, let go, little one.”
His suckles turn more into little biting nips while he gasps against you, trembling beneath you when he finally lets pleasure overtake him – eye squeezing shut at the feel of your walls clenching tightly around his cock. 
The warmth of him filling you only spurs you on more, your breaths ragged against his forehead while you feel yourself tense and relax again and again, grabbing at whatever parts of him you can reach. 
You each go still after a few moments, panting against each other. Aemond is practically limp beneath you, lazily nuzzling his face against your chest, satiated smile just barely tugging at the corners of his lips. Chuckling softly, you pepper his forehead in sweet kisses, relishing the contented hum he gives in return. 
When you go to get up however, intent on fetching a cloth to clean you both up with, he reaches for you with a small whine as he grabs at your thighs.
“Don’t, please,” he murmurs, brows furrowed when your eyes meet, “Stay…”
“You… you want to stay like this?” You question, your heartbeat quickening as he quickly nods, “You wish to stay –”
“Inside,” he finishes quickly, Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows bashfully, cheeks flushed, “I… I feel safe like… like this.”
“Then you can stay, silly boy,” you answer with a grin, kissing at his forehead once more, “Here, let’s just…” You murmur, tilting your hips to the side ever so slightly, attempting to pull him with you.
Blessedly, he seems to understand and follows you willingly, allowing you to maneuver the two of you onto your sides. After a moment, you’re comfortable once more, each of you lying on your side and facing the other, one of your legs slung over his narrow hips to keep him pressed tightly within you. 
“Good boy,” you sigh softly, smiling when he shivers against you. 
The two of you stay like that for a while, your hands gently caressing his soft skin or running through his hair while you hold him against you. After a while, his lilac eye finally flutters closed and you can’t help but marvel at how much younger he looks like this – relaxed and spent while he lies against you, like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders. 
After a while, he seems to grow restless again, nosing at your chest until he finds what he desires. You sigh softly as he pulls a nipple into his mouth once more, suckling at it contentedly while he peers up at you sleepily. 
“There you go,” you murmur soothingly, coaxing him to lift his head just enough for you to lay an arm beneath it, allowing you to caress his shoulders while your other hand cups gently at the side of his face, thumb sweeping over his soft skin. “Take what you need, sweet one,” you coo, smiling as he quickly returns his lips to your breast, “You’re safe, I’ve got you…”
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thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)
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lowkeyren ¡ 7 months ago
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reverse dating tropes w hsr men!
in which — what the title suggests / those classic fanfic tropes but with a twist
featuring — boothill, jing yuan, blade (separately) x gn!reader
✧.* — wc: total 1.5k, used up half my brain for this (the other half is for pt2 w aven sunday geppie!!), lovesick boothill + clingy jy + jealous blade fr, anyway pls enjoy! reblogs r appreciated <3
gepard aven sunday vers here!
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boothill ꩜ .ᐟ
love at many sights with boothill whose memory card was tinkered with, and every time you meet, he thinks he's seeing you for the first time, so he falls for you over and over again. 
when boothill returned from a dangerous mission, it was evident that he had endured significant damage. his once sleek and polished exterior was now marred by dents and scratches, and his mechanical limbs were either partially missing or severely damaged. the exposed wiring, usually neatly tucked away beneath scraps of metals, now hung in tangled strands, sparking occasionally with residual energy.
he looked barely salvageable. it's safe to say that the mechanics had a hell of a time fixing him.
though they were skilled enough to piece him back together, his memory card wasn’t as lucky. a tinkering in his system left him incapable of recalling or retaining information in his synthetic brain, temporarily —leaving the mechanics scrambling to find a solution.
weeks later, you find yourself walking down the familiar corridors of the laboratory where your favourite cyborg is being held for reparation.
boothill’s eyes immediately land on yours when you enter the lab. “well ain’t this a surprise! haven’t seen ya in a good long while.” boothill drawls, tipping his hat your way, his voice carrying a metallic twang. 
"i heard you took a bit of a tumble, figured someone should come make sure you didn’t lose all your screws." you shrug nonchalantly, a smirk playing on your lips.
boothill's eyes flicker for a moment, taking in the curve forming on your lips. he thinks you’re adorable with that infectious smile of yours. 
“heh, nothin’ bad, just had a r-r-run in with some cuties" he says, failing to hide the glitch that caused his voice to stutter. (and that damn synesthesia beacon! he swears he’ll get it fixed this time around…)
“guess you took more than a tumble huh...” you lean casually against the workbench, the sterile scent of machinery and the hum of various devices filled the air; your gaze sweeps over the freshly repaired parts of boothill's metallic frame, “anyway, glad to see that you’re mostly fine now." 
“aww! do ya care ‘bout me?” he teases, his grin widening, revealing his pointy teeth peeking out mischievously. you don’t reply, your eyes glinting with the faintest hint of amusement dancing in them.
"boothill, we go through this every time, your memory card's still damaged. you forget things sometimes, so for the 5th time this week, yes i do care about you.”
boothill's expression shifts, a mixture of realization and sheepishness crossing his features. "right, right," he murmurs, scratching the back of his head with his metallic hand. "sorry 'bout that, sugar. guess i just keep forgettin'."
you chuckle and shake your head, finding the situation amusing. he feels like he might overheat from the sheer warmth radiating from your smile.
“you’re beautiful, date me.” (he didn’t mean to blurt that outloud)
you raise your eyebrows at the sudden compliment, “why thank you,” a surprised laugh escapes your lips.
“—and we’re already dating, silly.”
a shower of sparks erupts from his circuits, you can particularly hear the fans inside him sputter and whir. you rush to his side, concern etched on your face.
“wh- are you okay?! you’re short circuiting again!”
and this happens every time his memory lapses. you offer an apology to the mechanic on the next shift for the extra work required to fix yet another damaged wire after your visits. perhaps they should ban you from getting too close to boothill, lest he completely breaks down again like that one time where you told him, yes you actually kissed before.
jing yuan ୭ ˚.
"secret relationship" with jing yuan but he is completely unaware of how his public displays of affection towards you keep revealing the supposed secrecy of your relationship.
on the rare case that the general is found in his office, you are there too, beside him.
“pleeeease? just one kiss, really really miss you, darling”
“no jing yuan, not now…”
he wraps his arms around you as he leans in, caging you from the back. he rests his chin on your shoulder, “then how about a kiss on the cheeks?” he murmurs in your ear. you try to push him away, but he just chuckles softly against your neck, his arms still secure around you.
“no, and get off me before someone sees!” you protest, feeling your face flush from the close proximity, and the tightening of his arms suggests that he has no intention of releasing you just yet.
this stubborn man… you swear you’re gonna burst a blood vessel someday.
as if to echo your exasperation; he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, peppering it with nibbles and gentle kisses. jing yuan certainly knows how to test your limits, yet his affectionate gestures never fail to chip away at your resolve.
suddenly, a series of loud knocks come from the door, you freeze, and immediately attempt to wiggle your way out of his grasp. but he remains unfazed, his hold on you firm, and seemingly unbothered by the interruption.
the door bursts open, “general! there’s a situation at starskiff ha—ven...”  yanqing trails off as his eyes widen at your position. the room falls into a momentary silence as yanqing's gaze shifts between you and his general, his expression reflecting a blend of shock and embarrassment.
clearing his throat awkwardly, yanqing stammers, "i-im sorry for interrupting... i’ll t-take my leave now!” with a hurried nod, he practically sprints out of the room.
oh bless that kid’s poor eyes… 
you shoot a glare at jing yuan from the corner of your eyes, you just know that he has a shit eating grin on his face right now. nowadays, it’s probably common knowledge that the general’s most treasured person is you, evidently shown by how he latches himself onto you every time you’re within his vicinity. you wouldn’t be surprised if the entirety of xianzhou knows about your supposed “secret” relationship.
“so… can i have my kiss now?” 
aeons, he’s insufferable. (you love him tho!!!!!)
blade ؛ ଓ
"fake dating" with blade but you are actually dating —somehow everyone is convinced you aren't.
“blink twice if you need help.” march whispers-shout; dan heng leans against the doorway, blocking the way into your room, nods in agreement.
“this is absurd… i’m alright guys, really!” you try to reassure your friends, frustration edging into your voice. though no matter how many times you insist that no blade isn't holding you hostage and that you are indeed in a relationship with him, they seem convinced otherwise, somehow deducing that you're not able to speak freely.
you sigh in resignation, knowing that they aren’t going to relent anytime soon, and with blade idling in your room, you can't afford to keep him waiting any longer. “dan heng please, let me through, he’s been waiting for me for the past 10 minutes now…”
“good, let him wait.” dan heng responds curtly. (what a guy)
march takes hold of your hands, “do you owe the stellaron hunters something, and him out of everyone?! he looks scary…and totally not your type!” 
“not their type?” a low voice rings out from behind dan heng, the three of you turn immediately and see blade looming at your doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. 
“stellaron hunter. stay back.” dan heng furrows his eyebrows, his stance defensive as he pulls out his weapon, positioning himself to block you and march. sensing the growing tension, you step forward, reaching out to gently grasp at dan heng’s shoulder. 
(blade’s expression darkens at your hand resting on him)
“it’s okay dan heng, he means no harm.” dan heng hesitates, his grip on his weapon remains tight, but he doesn't move to strike. so you slowly move between him and blade, “see? i’m fine… he’s not gonna hurt me.” you smile reassuringly at your friends. 
just then, as if to further aggravate dan heng, blade settles his hand on your waist. dan heng’s hand is visibly twitching now. “what? can’t i touch what’s mine?”
dan heng’s eyes narrow, “...we still don’t believe you, leave now. before it’s too late.”
before you can interject, blade grabs your chin, silencing any words of protest with a sudden kiss. caught off guard, your eyes widen as the unexpected gesture leaves you momentarily stunned. but you soon reciprocate his kiss, his intensity drawing you in.
(march quickly covers her eyes with her hands)
“there. now leave us alone.” and with that, he pulls you into your room, slamming the door shut behind, pinning you against it. 
it’s just the both of you now, finally.
“did you really have to touch him.” his voice tinged with possessiveness. “blade, he would’ve hurt you, i didn’t mean—” he shuts you up with another kiss, more desperate this time, welp guess you’re stuck with him for the night.
though your friends might not believe that a person like you would “be in cahoots” with someone as dangerous as him; convincing them otherwise is a task for another time. tonight, he wants your attention focused solely on him, and him only.
✧.*
masterlist gepard aven sunday vers here!
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cheer-nympho ¡ 1 month ago
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Steve was always being brushed off when he asked people to read things aloud for him,
In middle school his assigned partner for their ‘Frankenstein’ project gave him a scornful glare and ignored him when he had asked them to read the passages aloud.
In his sophomore year, he’d turned to ask Robin Buckley to read a old newspaper article about the ‘Wild West’ to him, because he couldn’t make it out through the fonts and weird words. She had fixed him with a cold look but before she could respond, Tammy was tapping his shoulder offering her help.
Then, while studying with Nancy and Barb at lunch, Steve had asked for help reading study cards. His own study cards. The paper was too bright and the squiggles too squiggly. Both of them had looked at him, them each other, clearly trying to decide if it was a joke.
Barb had scoffed under Nancys pointed look and gone back to her own notes. And while Nancy hadn’t read them out for him, she had handed him her own notes on some nice blue and yellow cards. It took him a while, but he could read them. Maybe she thought he hadn’t wrote any.
After that, he went a long time without asking anyone to read him things. Turns out that once you graduate, reading isn’t much of an issue. He’d gotten by just fine by looking at his Archie comics and ignoring the swirling lines of articles surrounding them.
He didn’t need to ask again until Scoops Ahoy. For a cheap, overly themed ice cream parlour there sure was a whole lot of memorising and reading to be done. He couldn’t see the charts properly, couldn’t really make out the dates on the tubs in the freezer. But every time he asked Robin for help, her frown would deepen and deepen until she just snapped. It hadn’t been that mean, really. Just an annoyed yell followed by accusations of being lazy, her not understanding how he managed to graduate, one last comment of him being a ‘bumbling idiot’.
After the Russians, she never said anything like that to him again. And she always did the inventory and lists for him.
It takes until summer, 1987, for anyone to read aloud to Steve. They were laying across Eddie’s new bed in comfortable silence.
Steve had his legs dangling off the edges as Eddie leant back against him, legs pointing up against the wall in a way he swore was actually comfortable. He had been reading a new book called “Spellfire” and he couldn’t seem to put it down.
“Eddie?”
“Hm?”
“What’s your book about?”
“This? Well I…Not sure it’s really your thing, man.”
“Maybe.” He goes back to reading. “I could see if it’s my thing?”
Eddie twists his head sideways to look up at Steve with a slightly confused face. “You wanna borrow it?”
“Was thinking you could read it.” He fiddled with the pocket of his jeans in a hopefully casual and not freaking out way. He didn’t look at Eddie as he waited, but after a few moments he responded.
“Sure. That’s fine, yeah. Want me to start over or go from here?”
“From there is good.”
And it was good, it was really really good. Steve hadn’t been able to read a book since middle school, hadn’t really tried again after that. But as he lay back and let Eddie’s voice wash over him he couldn’t help feeling that he’d been missing out.
Sure, it actually wasn’t really his thing, but the way Eddie read aloud painted such a clear picture that Steve enjoyed it anyway. The other would change his voice slightly for different characters and added emotions into his speaking. If it was a tense moment, he’d go slow and add gaps in just the right places. If it was fast paced he’d speed up and get more and more manic until the action cut off. He felt like he was reading along. Felt like he could see the pages in the book, but also the characters and the dungeon they were combining through.
So, for the first time Steve hadn’t been brushed off. He had probably found the only person he knew who could turn reading a book into a performance. One he would happily be seated for every night.
From then on, new books turned up at the trailer every week, Steve not far behind.
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uh-mxtx ¡ 4 months ago
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Modern-au Binghe who inherits Tianglang-jun’s massive fuck off mansion with like 4000 rooms after living on the streets/foster system after his adoptive mom died (idk i just need him to have big house) and he goes “what the hell am I supposed to do with this” and Meng mo (cant be a demon here ive decided he’s a weird homeless guy who gives him advice. That or a schizophrenic hallucination) goes “fill it with women” and binghe who knows he is gay goes “no”
But then he hears some girls complaining about the safety of some of the campus housing/thier boyfriend or parents kicked them out/ect and he’s like “well, i can fix that” and offers his mcmansion up as apartments. He’s loaded so he barely asks for rent and he just keeps inviting women in hard times, like his mother used to be.
But his real calling is cooking so he keeps feeding his tenants and asking what they like. He’s got a youtube cooking/home ec channel and they’re his taste testers. And they start inviting their freinds over like “hey wanna meet our big gay himbo landlord who feeds us” and their freinds are like “boy do I”
Binghe is absolutely gleefull about this. More people to feed. Fuck yeah he gets to be housewife. The gossip sessions are unmatched. He ends up making a full banquet every night and you can either show up in your pj’s or a ballgown to match the decor.
And eventually all this snowballs and hes got a whole sorority in his mcmansion. and they casually call him husband/boyfreind/sugar daddy as a joke bc Binghe is JACKED and they can get rid of men real fast if they pull their six foot seven guard dog out of the crowd. For the sign off/video end the taste testers on Binghe’s show kiss his cheeks as thanks. Binghe doesn’t know half the people in his house. Some girl he never met (came out of SHL’s room and is COVERED in hickeys) just smacked his ass and stole a stack of pancakes. He doesn’t even react he just makes more. This is the best for his touch starvation.
And oblivious people(you know who) dont realize most of them are lesbians using him as a beard, (ignoring the makeouts and pride flags in the background of some videos) and they absolutely believe Luo Binghe seduced a crowd of women into a harem by the power of cooking, cleaning, and great sex.
Cough cough, Shen Yuan
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pucksandpower ¡ 9 months ago
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Too Sweet
Toto Wolff x Reader
Max Verstappen x ex!Reader
Summary: Max used to think that you’re too sweet for him … now he has to learn to live with the fact that Toto has quite a sweet tooth (inspired by the song that I’ve had on repeat)
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I take my whiskĐľy neat
The doors to the upscale restaurant swing open and Max strides through, his fingers lightly grazing the small of your back as he guides you inside. The dimly lit interior is bustling with the chatter of well-heeled patrons enjoying their evening repasts. A sharply dressed hostess greets you with a polite smile.
“Good evening, sir. Welcome to The Sazerac Room. Do you have a reservation?”
“Verstappen,” Max replies curtly.
The hostess consults her tablet, then nods. “Right this way please.”
She leads the two of you through the elegant dining room, weaving between tables topped with crisp white linens and elaborate floral centerpieces. Max keeps his hand at your back, his thumb idly stroking in a soothing pattern as you take in the opulent surroundings with wide eyes.
“This place is incredible,” you murmur, craning your neck to admire the ornate chandeliers glittering overhead. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
He simply grunts in acknowledgment as the hostess stops before an intimate table tucked discreetly in the corner. After pulling out your chair for you with a flourish, she sets two leather-bound menus on the table.
“Your server will be right with you,” she informs them before departing with a polite nod.
You waste no time in opening your menu, hungrily perusing the offerings. “Oh Max, look at all these amazing cocktails! The La Vie en Rose sounds divine — rose liqueur, raspberries, lemon ...” You glance up at him hopefully. “We should get a couple of those to start.”
Max barely glances at his own menu before shaking his head. “I’ll just have a whiskey neat.”
Your face falls slightly at his brusque response. “Are you sure? These all look so good! We should live a little and try something fun for once.”
He fixes you with a stern look from across the table. “You know I don’t like frilly drinks. Now stop pestering me about it.”
Chastened by his harsh tone, you lapse into a wounded silence and continue reading the menu with diminished enthusiasm. A few moments later, a dapper middle-aged gentleman in a crisp suit appears at your table.
“Good evening, and welcome to The Sazerac Room. My name is William and I’ll be your server this evening.” With a polite smile, he produces a notepad from his breast pocket. “May I start you off with something to drink?”
You glance back at Max, giving him one last chance to change his mind. When he simply gazes back at you impassively, you sigh. “I’ll have the La Vie en Rose cocktail, please.”
William jots down your order before turning to Max expectantly.
“Whiskey neat,” Max says flatly. “Redbreast 27 Year, if you have it.”
“An excellent choice, sir.” William makes a note. “And may I bring you both some bread from our bakery while you decide on your meals?”
“That would be wonderful, thank you,” you reply gratefully.
William departs to place the drink orders, leaving you and Max alone once more. An awkward silence stretches between you, filled only by the tinkle of silverware and murmurs of conversation from surrounding tables.
Finally, you try again. “Max, are you sure I can’t tempt you with one little sip? This La Vie en Rose cocktail sounds absolutely divine. You might lov-”
“For fuck’s sake!” Max suddenly explodes, slamming his menu down on the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want any of your ridiculous fruity bullshit? I’m a fucking race car driver, not some ridiculous Instagram model trying to look pretty with my drink.”
His nostrils flare as he leans across the table, eyes flashing with irritation that you would dare continue to push the issue. “I’ve had a long fucking day and I am going to drink whatever the fuck I want. So order your stupid fucking girly cocktail if you must, but don’t act so goddamn disappointed and keep shoving it in my face when I say no.”
You shrink back in your chair, eyes widening with hurt at his enraged outburst. The crestfallen look on your face is enough to douse Max’s fury like a bucket of ice water. He slumps back, remorse already stirring as he witnesses the light dimming in your eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly as you blink back sudden tears.
“I … I was just excited to try something new together,” you whisper shakily. “But never mind. You’re right, I’m sorry.”
The arrival of William with a basket of assorted breads and your glittering pink cocktail garnished with raspberries provides a merciful distraction from the tension.
You immediately reach for the drink, wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and taking a large gulp — both to avoid making eye contact with Max and to sample your coveted libation.
A look of bliss softens your features as the tart, sugary concoction bursts across your taste buds. “Mmm, this is incredible!”
For a beat, Max can’t help but drink in your look of pure enjoyment — the way your eyes flutter closed in delight, pink lips quirking into a contented smile as you savor each sip. It simultaneously tugs at his heartstrings and fills him with an irrational stab of resentment.
Here you are, sweet and radiant, able to find joy in the simplest of things … while he is just a miserable bastard who can’t let himself enjoy anything without getting irrationally angry.
You deserve so much better than him.
The thought is sobering and he feels shame burn hot in his gut. Unconsciously, his shoulders slump as he watches you take another euphoric sip of your cocktail.
“I knew it, this is amazing,” you sigh happily, seemingly recovered from his earlier tantrum as you bask in the deliciousness of your drink. “Max, you have to try just one little-”
“No.” The refusal is automatic, the word slicing through your offer before he can think better of it.
Your face shutters once more, the bright light in your eyes dimming as your smile fades into resignation. With a soft exhale, you set your glass down and reach for the bread basket instead.
“Suit yourself, then.”
As you silently butter a roll, Max finds himself at a rare loss, anger dissipating into regret as the knot in his stomach tightens painfully. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration after his impressive win on the track, a chance for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company and make more happy memories together.
Instead, he’s gone and ruined the mood … again … just like he always does.
***
“Another round?” Checo’s voice cuts through the sound of laughter and chatter around the table.
Max glances up distractedly from pushing the remaining bits of food around his plate. He, Checo, and a few other members of the Red Bull team are celebrating a successful Monaco Grand Prix. Despite making the podium, Max’s mind hasn’t really been on the festivities.
“I’m all set, thanks,” he mutters, raising his glass of whiskey with a tight smile before taking a sip. His gaze drifts across the opulent dining room of Cipriani Monte Carlo, idly scanning the crowd of wealthy patrons enjoying their evening meals.
That’s when his eyes catch on a shockingly familiar figure.
You.
Sitting at an intimate corner table, bathed in the soft glow of a candle’s flickering flame. For a moment, Max’s breath catches in his throat as a thousand bittersweet memories assault him all at once.
The hurt look on your face that night at The Sazerac Room … the resignation in your eyes as you accepted, yet again, that he would never be able to appreciate the sweet, simple pleasures that brought you such joy ...
The cold, empty silence that descended over your apartment when he finally left for good, stuffing his belongings into a duffel bag as you watched with trembling lips from across the room ...
Max blinks, and the moment passes — but his gaze remains riveted to your table. Because there, sitting across from you with adoration written across his insufferable face … is Toto Wolff.
Max feels his lips curl into an unconscious sneer as the Mercedes team principal murmurs something to you with a gentle smile, reaching across to delicately brush a lock of hair behind your ear. You catch Toto’s hand as it falls, pressing a tender kiss into his palm that makes the older man’s expression soften even further.
Your waiter arrives then, providing a momentary distraction as he lays out a couple of fresh cocktails on crisp white linen — a bright purple concoction garnished with a sugared rim and a plump cherry for you and an amber-hued old fashioned for Toto.
Your eyes light up as you take in the colorful beverage, immediately wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and bringing it to your lips to sample. A look of pure delight crosses your features as the no doubt sugary drink bursts across your taste buds.
“Mmm ...” you hum in pleasure, causing Toto to chuckle affectionately as he watches you enjoy the first reveling sips.
Setting your glass down, you gesture enthusiastically toward it as you address Toto. “This is incredible! You have to try it.”
Without hesitation, the Mercedes team boss dutifully leans across the table to take a long pull from your straw. Max watches with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination as Toto’s expression morphs into one of surprised enjoyment.
“Wow, that is quite good, isn’t it?” Toto remarks with an indulgent grin, licking a telltale dab of purple syrup from the corner of his mouth.
“I told you!” You crow in delight, eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee.
The pure joy radiating from you in that moment is enough to make Max’s heart clench in his chest. He has seen that look before, so many times — whenever he deigned to let go of his surly demeanor for even a moment and actually indulge whatever fleeting whim or simple pleasure you desired to share with him.
But it was always so short-lived with him, stamped out by his own stubborn refusal to truly embrace anything resembling happiness or frivolity. You deserved so much more than his constant scowling and gruff rebuffs.
As if reading his thoughts, Toto then leans across the table to tenderly capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The gentle intimacy of it makes Max’s gut churn as a feeling too complicated to fully unpack blossoms in his chest.
When you finally part, both of you are smiling at each other with such open, unguarded adoration that it’s almost obscene to witness. Toto reaches out to cradle your face in his palm as your lips find his once more in another chaste, loving caress.
This time, when you pull away, you let your head loll back with a look of pure bliss. Something deep within Max cracks and splinters at the sight. In a haze, he finds himself drifting back through the churning currents of memory ...
… that last, fateful shouting match in your living room, both of you red-faced and furious as the dam holding back all the anger and resentment and accusations that had been building for months finally burst ...
… you weeping silently as you clutched a meager trash bag containing what little remained of his belongings, not even able to look at him for fear of collapsing completely ...
… “I’m too sweet for you, Max. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”
The acid words burn in his mind even now, feeling as fresh and raw as that night they were spat out like venom between you. His chest constricts as his gaze falls guiltily back to the present day scene in front of him.
Toto and you, basking in the warm, rosy glow of new love — careless and unrestrained in your public affection. Delighting in each other’s company and simple pleasures … just as you always desired for Max to do, yet he could never fully surrender to.
The display is like a twisted mirror, taunting him with the vibrant reflection of what he threw away. What he was too foolish, too emotionally stunted and uncaring to fully appreciate at the time.
Stumbling from his chair in a daze, Max barely registers the questioning looks and concerned murmurs from his team as he staggers from the dining room. He hardly makes it to the privacy of the restroom before bending at the waist, hefting the contents of his stomach into the thankfully pristine porcelain basin.
The whiskey burns on the way back up.
Max grips the edges of the counter, face contorted in anguish as a realization washes over him in searing waves.
You were the real prize all along … and now, he’s lost you for good.
My coffee black
The drone of announcements over the PA system and the dull roar of hundreds of people bustling to and fro mingles into an ever-present white noise hum. Max trudges ahead, the brim of his ball cap tugged low as he weaves through the teeming crowds filing through the airports’ terminals.
It’s just after 5 am, the start of another grueling race week. This time the travel will take you from the Middle Eastern leg of the circuit to the other side of the world in Australia. Twenty-plus hours of planes, layovers, and jet lag beckon — a prospect that grows less and less appealing with each passing season.
A warm weight presses against his side as you shuffle along beside him, head lolling adorably as you struggle to keep your eyes open. One slender hand is looped through the crook of his elbow, gripping the strap of your carry-on bag with the other. You let out a jaw-cracking yawn, leaning into Max’s solid bulk.
“I need coffee,” you mumble groggily. “I’m barely conscious.”
He shoots you a sidelong glance, mouth quirking ever-so-slightly at your dramatics. As grating as your tendency for excessive cheerfulness can be at times, he does admire your ability to shake off the fatigue and stress that plagues him more and more these days.
“There’s one of those chains up ahead,” he grunts, nodding toward the familiar logo peeking through from around the corner.
You light up immediately, straightening and quickening your shuffling steps in anticipation of the caffeinated boost soon to come. By the time you reach the counter, there’s a bright spark back in your eyes that makes the exhaustion plaguing Max’s own limbs feel slightly more bearable.
The barista, a pimple-faced youth who can’t be any older than 18, greets you with a too-wide smile. “Welcome to Daily Grind! What can I get started for you?”
You lean in eagerly, surveying the massive display of chalkboard signs advertising the latest sugar bombs and “coffee” concoctions designed to appease the basic palates of everyday people who wouldn’t know a good cup of joe if it slapped them across the face. Max scowls, already anticipating some ridiculously saccharine order.
“I’ll have a large cinnamon honey oat milk latte, please,” you chirp, as expected.
The barista marks down your request with a perky nod. “Excellent! And for you, sir?”
“Black coffee,” Max replies flatly. “Medium.”
Your brow furrows as you shoot him a quizzical look. “Just black coffee? Not even a splash of cream or anything?”
He shakes his head tersely, one hand already rummaging in his pocket for his wallet as the barista rattles off the total. “We’re in a rush as it is, and that sugary nonsense you ordered takes forever to make with all the fussy bullshit they do to it.”
You wince at his blunt assessment, shoulders slumping a bit in a way that makes a pang of guilt flicker through Max’s chest. He doesn’t mean to be so harsh … but sometimes it’s like the more considerate side of his nature has been ground away by years of constant training and calculating every single variable down to the most minute detail.
The poor kid working the register seems to shrink under the intensity of Max’s gruff demeanor. With shaky hands, he quickly processes the payment before stammering out your total. As you shuffle off to the side to wait for your orders, Max can’t help but keep picking.
“Honestly, I don’t know why you insist on ordering those stupid drinks that are 90% milk and trash,” he mutters, shooting you a disapproving look. “Barely any actual coffee at all.”
You frown, immediately hunching into yourself a bit as you cradle a handful of napkins against your chest. “It’s not like that coffee flavor isn’t there at all,” you argue meekly. “And I have to get some kind of caffeine boost to stay awake during all these flights and race weekends. I just … I don’t really like the taste of black coffee.”
Max scoffs loudly at that, shaking his head in open derision. “Sure, because drinking just regular black coffee like an adult would be too difficult. Instead you have to get your ‘caffeine boost’ from some tooth-rottingly sweet concoction that looks like something a child would order.”
The barista shifts uncomfortably behind the counter, clearly flustered by Max’s abrasive tone. Not that he cares — he’s been dealing with people gawking at him in public for years now. What does rub him the wrong way is the wounded look spreading across your delicate features, eyes dropping to stare dejectedly at the floor.
He opens his mouth to continue chiding you, but at that moment the barista appears with your drinks. The sweet, cinnamony aroma of your order hits Max’s nostrils like a slap in the face, making his nose wrinkle on instinct. You accept your oversized paper cup gratefully, hands automatically curling around the comforting warmth.
With visible enthusiasm, you bring the drink to your lips, unable to resist taking a sip despite the scalding temperature. Max tracks the minute changes in your expression — the slight widening of your eyes, the upward quirk of your lips into a smile of unalloyed contentment. Your lashes flutter closed on a quiet hum of blissful appreciation.
“Mmm … heaven,” you practically moan, hunching over your cup as though to better inhale the revitalizing notes of sugar and spice.
It makes Max want to retch, watching you so unashamedly indulging in such vapid, artificial flavors. How can you find such simple-minded pleasure in that, when you could be savoring the bold, robust notes of a proper cup of black coffee? One meant to awaken the senses and caress the taste buds with its smoky aroma and rich, nuanced flavor notes.
“You can’t honestly get any enjoyment from basically drinking hot milk and flavored syrups,” he mutters, sneering at the offensive beverage in your grasp.
In response, you simply shift closer to him until you’re pressed alongside his body. Your free hand snakes around his bicep, squeezing gently as you tilt your head back to gaze up at him imploringly. Exhaustion and hurt war openly with the angelic softness of your delicate features.
“Max … can’t you just let me enjoy this?” You plead in a low murmur. “It’s early, and we’ve got a long flight ahead.”
His jaw clenches stubbornly, unwilling to back down so easily. Caffeine and sleep deprivation have eroded his already thin sense of decorum.
“I’m just saying, drinking a syrupy dessert drink loaded with sugar and god knows what else isn’t doing you any favors. You might as well just stick to black coffee like a normal adult if you want to be awake and energized.”
The wounded look in your eyes deepens into something more somber and resigned. Slowly, you pull away from Max’s side until a noticeable distance stretches between your bodies. Something inside him shrivels at the loss of contact. Your slender fingers work feverishly at the cup’s lid until it pops off with a dull thunk.
Max stares blankly as you march over to the nearest trash can and upend the contents of your cup into the receptacle. You don’t even seem to hesitate — simply turn on your heel and hurl the now-empty cup in after the wasted drink. It clatters hollowly against the canister, mocking and empty.
When you turn back to face Max, the sight makes the now-lukewarm coffee sitting neglected in his own cup feels like a lead weight in his gut. Your arms are wrapped protectively around yourself, hunched against some unseen foe. Head bowed, you refuse to meet his gaze as you slowly make your way back over to where he stands rooted to the spot in stunned silence.
It’s only as you draw up beside him that Max notices the twin tear tracks striping your cheeks. Your chin remains stubbornly trembling, but you make no move to wipe at the tears now falling freely. Max’s chest constricts almost painfully at the sight of your misery, the guilt gnawing at him as the reality sets in.
He is the reason for it. His harsh, uncompromising tongue has wounded you in one of the cruelest ways once again. Too strict, too unyielding, too incapable of allowing even the smallest indulgences that bring you simple joy without sneering dismissal.
For several agonizing moments, the two of you stand in silence amid the milling crowds of travelers streaming past. Max can’t bring himself to meet your gaze, knowing he’ll only find the depths of his own callous thoughtlessness reflected back at him in your swimming eyes.
Finally, you release a shuddering sigh that sounds far too weighted for someone of your sweetness and light. When you speak, your voice is little more than a tremulous murmur laced with dejection.
“Let’s just go to the gate, Max.”
You brush past him without another word, leaving him to trail numbly in your wake as shame burns a hole through his gut. He watches as your form disappears into the throngs, shoulders already beginning to hunch inward as that spark of happiness in you gutters and fades.
Lingering behind, Max’s gaze falls to the empty cup lying crumpled and discarded in the trash. A reminder of yet another instance where his unchecked tongue and inability to empathize has spoiled an innocent attempt at simple pleasure.
His coffee suddenly tastes like ash on his tongue.
As he moves to dump the neglected drink into the nearby basin, Max wonders with a sinking feeling just how many more times he’ll be able to snuff out your light before it dwindles to nothing.
***
The late morning sun bears down with oppressive force, causing a mirage-like haze to shimmer over the sweltering asphalt of the paddock. Despite being early summer, the Spanish air is already thick and heavy enough to bathe Max’s skin in a sheen of perspiration as he trudges toward the Red Bull Energy Station.
Ahead, he spots a cluster of people milling aimlessly near the entrance to the Mercedes motorhome. At the center appears to be you, head tilted back in unrestrained laughter at something George Russell is regaling you with. The British driver is equally animated, pale features scrunched up in exaggerated motions as he relays what is no doubt an amusing tale.
Max feels his steps gradually slow of their own accord as he takes you in from a distance. You seem utterly at ease and in your element — cheeky grin splitting your face, one hand toying idly with the ends of your hair as your eyes crinkle with unbridled mirth.
A pure vision of effortless contentment.
His gut clenches unexpectedly, unbidden memories of how he methodically chipped away at that very lightness in you until it was all but extinguished washing over him in a nauseating wave. How quickly he took such simple joys for granted ...
So transfixed is he by the sight of your open, honest amusement that Max barely notices the figure slipping up behind you. Not until Toto Wolff raises a conspiratorial finger to his lips, eyes twinkling impishly as he pantomimes for silence at a sputtering George.
You remain oblivious even as the Mercedes team principal slides flush against your back, looping one arm around your waist to tug you snug against his chest. With his free hand, Toto cups it teasingly over your eyes — to which you release a tinkling peal of laughter.
“Guess who?” The playful lilt of the older man’s Austrian lilt is unmistakable, dripping with honeyed warmth.
“Hmm … I wonder,” you murmur coyly, making a show of tapping your chin in feigned confusion. “Is it a dashing gentleman caller here to sweep me off my feet?”
Toto chuckles deeply in your ear, the sound positively dripping with unguarded affection. “Only if you’ll have me, liebling.”
Craning your head back with a cheeky grin, your arms instinctively wind around his neck as you stretch up on your tiptoes to greet him properly. Toto meets your lips in a lingering, languid kiss that has George hastily clearing his throat and looking resolutely anywhere but at the affectionate display before him.
When you finally part, all radiant smiles and flushed cheeks, it’s like the rest of the world has completely fallen away. Toto gazes down at you with such pure adoration that Max feels his throat constrict as though a belt is suddenly cinched tight around it.
“I have a surprise for you, schnucki,” Toto murmurs huskily, lips brushing your temple as he speaks.
You light up like a kid on Christmas morning, practically vibrating with excitement at his words. “Oh? Do tell!”
With a wink and roguish smile, Toto brandishes his other hand from behind his back — in it, clutched protectively, is a large cup topped with whipped cream and what looks like edible flower petals sprinkled over the top. The light purple hue of the iced contents catches in the bright sun, refracting a prism of soft, delicate colors.
“I had the barista in our hospitality whip this up for you,” Toto explains fondly. “After I mentioned how much you enjoy trying unique coffee flavors. It’s a lavender vanilla iced latte.”
Your mouth drops open in a perfect ‘o’ of delight as you instinctively make grabby motions toward the tantalizing beverage. Max recognizes that earnest enthusiasm all too well. It’s the same look you used to get whenever presented with any unique taste or experience to appreciate.
A look he always met with disdain and scorn.
Toto doesn’t hesitate for a second before depositing the cup into your greedy hands. You immediately cradle it reverently, as though it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held. Ducking your head, you take a long pull through the striped paper straw.
The expression that blossoms across your features as that first taste bursts over your tongue is one of pure, unadulterated bliss. Your eyes flutter closed on a muffled moan of sinful enjoyment, lips pursing as though savoring each individual note of flavor. Max hasn’t seen you look that unguardedly delighted by anything in … well, he can’t actually recall the last time.
“Oh Toto, this is heavenly!” You gush, swiping your tongue across your lower lip to catch a stray drop of condensation. “The lavender is subtle, but gives it such a uniquely fresh and floral twist. And the vanilla adds this creamy sweetness that keeps it from being overwhelming.”
You open your eyes to beam radiantly up at the older man, who returns your luminous smile with equal warmth. “It’s perfect, thank you! You have to try it.”
Without prompting, you eagerly offer the cup up to Toto. He accepts it with an indulgent chuckle, locking eyes with you as he takes a contemplative sip — no doubt eager to share in whatever fleeting moment of bliss the simple drink has brought you.
Unlike Max, who would have turned up his nose and likely received it with derision, Toto seems to savor the complex blend of flavors. Humming thoughtfully, he swipes his tongue across his upper lip as though committing each separate note to memory.
“You’re quite right, liebling,” he agrees readily, “this is delightful. So refreshing for this heat. I may have to acquire a taste for these iced coffees myself.”
You positively glow at his assessment, lighting up from within like a joyful little sun. Max is helpless before the storm of emotions suddenly ripping through him at the sight.
“Oh! That reminds me,” you chirp giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “I was talking to the barista about maybe incorporating some other floral syrups for iced coffees too. Like rose or hibiscus! And maybe we could get her to try making those fun layered drinks with the espresso on the bottom-”
Toto’s deep belly laugh cuts off your stream of eager rambling. Without warning, he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush against him once more. You let out a startled giggle as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, lips brushing the feverish pulse point just beneath your jaw.
“You adorable thing,” he rumbles warmly, words slightly muffled against your skin as he presses a languid line of kisses along the sharp line of your jaw. “So enthusiastic about the simplest pleasures in life ...”
Pulling back, Toto lifts one hand to tenderly cradle the side of your face. You automatically nuzzle into his palm with a look of such smitten devotion that it makes Max’s heart stutter behind his ribcage. When Toto leans in to seal his lips over yours once more, the kiss is deep and thoroughly unhurried — as though the two of you have all the time in the world to savor this intimate little moment.
Max’s hands clench into white-knuckled fists, blunt nails biting crescent moons into his clammy palms. He should turn away, leave you to your blissful display with someone who so clearly appreciates you. Yet he remains rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding before him.
It’s like witnessing an alternate universe version of your shared lives play out in vivid, scorching detail.
In this reality, Toto is the one tenderly stroking the pad of his thumb over the elegant arch of your cheekbone as the two of you part, drinking in the sight of your passion-addled features hungrily. He is the one basking in the radiance of your bright and unrestrained joy. Celebrating each of your simple thrills, from the most frivolous of flavored coffees to the sensual graze of skin on skin.
And where does that leave Max? An outsider peering in at paradise with his face smeared against the glass, watching the warmth and affection he could never fully embrace slowly slip through his calloused fingers.
And my bed at three
The mattress shifts, the subtle movement rousing Max from his slumber. He cracks one eye open to find the space next to him empty, the sheets disheveled where you had lain.
A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand tells him it’s not yet 5 am. Where are you going at this hour?
He hears faint rustling from the living area of the hotel suite, followed by the soft click of the door. Groaning, he kicks off the covers and pads out of the bedroom, the plush carpet warm beneath his bare feet.
You’re sitting on the couch, slipping into a pair of flats. “What are you doing up so early?” He asks, his voice still husky from sleep.
You look up, startled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” A soft smile plays on your lips. “I was going to watch the sunrise.”
Max rakes a hand through his tousled hair. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Because it’s beautiful.” Your eyes sparkle with an excitement he can’t comprehend this early in the morning. “The colors, the way the light slowly creeps over the horizon — it’s just magical.”
He snorts. “It happens every day. Nothing magical about it.”
Your face falls ever so slightly, and it tugs at something in his chest. But the feeling is fleeting, replaced by annoyance at having his sleep disturbed for something so trivial. “So you didn’t want to join me, then?” You ask, almost timidly.
“And wake up before the ass-crack of dawn? No thanks.” He flops onto the couch beside you with a huff. “I was up until 3 am sim racing. Not all of us find staring at the sky such riveting entertainment.”
You say nothing, simply nodding as you avert your gaze. The light in your eyes has dimmed, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he shakes it off — it’s far too early for this kind of whimsical nonsense.
“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “I’m going back to bed.”
He doesn’t see the way your shoulders droop as he turns and trudges back towards the bedroom. Doesn’t see the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes before you blink them away and readjust the set of your jaw with determination.
Max burrows under the covers, fully intent on drifting back into oblivion. But sleep evades him, his mind buzzing with a peculiar restlessness. He punches his pillow into a more suitable shape, flips it over to the cool side, but still he lies awake, listening to the silence that fills the suite.
After what feels like an eternity, curiosity gets the better of him. He kicks off the covers once more and pads over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city street below. Sure enough, there you are, a tiny figure perched on a bench across the way, your face tipped up towards the slowly lightening sky.
Max leans his forehead against the cool glass, watching as the inky blackness of night gives way to soft shades of periwinkle and lilac. Slowly, the colors deepen into blazing pinks and vibrant oranges that streak across the heavens. The sky ignites in a brilliant blaze of crimson and gold, the clouds set afire by the rising sun.
And there you sit, bathed in the dawn’s ethereal glow, utterly transfixed. In this light, your features seem softer, more at peace than he’s seen you in a long while. A smile plays on your lips, genuine and unguarded, as you take in the spectacle unfolding before you.
Max finds himself holding his breath, as if the slightest movement might shatter the magic of this moment. He’s never seen you look more beautiful, more alive than in these fleeting minutes as day breaks over the city.
A rare pang of tenderness blooms in his chest, quickly overshadowed by a creeping sense of unease. He isn’t certain how much time has passed before the brilliant hues fade into the pale blue of morning, but eventually you rise from the bench, taking one last, lingering look at the sky before turning and disappearing from view.
Max exhales slowly, his breath fogging up the glass. He isn’t proud of how he dismissed your simple joy, that spark of wonderment at the little things that he so often takes for granted.
An emptiness settles in the pit of his stomach, the guilt heavier than before. How many other moments has he trampled on in his relentless pursuit of success?
He thinks of your radiant smile, how it lit up the pre-dawn gloom more vibrantly than the sunrise itself. With a sigh, Max turns away from the window, already dreading the apology he knows he owes you.
Because in that single, breathtaking moment, he realizes just how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. Someone who can find magic in the mundane, beauty in the simple things he’s become blind to along the way.
Someone, Max fears, who may be too sweet for him.
***
Max gives up on sleep around 4:30 am, as he has for the past several weeks. Insomnia has become his constant, unwanted companion, leaving him tossing and turning until the first hints of dawn creep through the curtains. On nights like this, slumber remains persistently out of reach no matter how exhausted he feels.
He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling as the brightening sky slowly illuminates the room. It wasn’t always this way — he used to be able to sleep like the dead after a race weekend, knocked out by the physical and mental exertion. But lately, his mind refuses to shut off, thoughts swirling endlessly until his head pounds.
With a groan, Max kicks off the tangled sheets and drags himself out of bed. Maybe going for a run will quiet the racket in his brain, at least for a little while. He dresses quickly, lacing up his trainers and grabbing his earbuds before heading out into the semi-darkness.
The pre-dawn streets are blissfully empty as he starts off at an easy jog. He despises becoming one of those obnoxious morning people, but exhaustion has a way of stripping away one’s self-respect. If pounding the pavement before the rest of the world awakes is what it takes to catch a few hours of sleep, so be it.
His route takes him along the harbor, the gentle lapping of the waves against the seawall providing a soothing soundtrack. The first rays of sunlight glint off the glassy surface, and he finds himself averting his gaze, oddly resentful of the impending sunrise.
It wasn’t so long ago that he scoffed at your eagerness to greet each new day. But ever since you’ve been gone from his life, those brilliant, fleeting moments of beauty have begun to mock him at every turn.
He picks up his pace, as if he can outrun the rising sun and the flood of memories it brings. But there’s no escaping the vivid flashes of you, smiling radiantly as the world awakes in a blaze of fiery hues. Or the hollow ache that twinges somewhere beneath his rib cage whenever he’s reminded of just how little he appreciated you.
So lost is he in his circling thoughts that he nearly runs right into you, appearing abruptly on the path ahead. His trainers skid against the pavement as he grinds to a halt, his heart stammering in his chest.
“Max?” You blink up at him, clearly startled by his sudden presence.
He opens his mouth, an automatic apology rising to his lips — until his eyes zero in on the camera clutched in your hands. Of course. Still chasing sunrises after all these years.
A wry grin tugs at the corner of your mouth as you take in his rumpled running attire. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Max says nothing, his gaze flickering briefly towards the brightening horizon before fixing on you once more. You look … well, radiant as ever, lit by the soft morning glow. A small pang of something — longing, maybe — twists in his gut.
“Out enjoying another sunrise, I see,” he says at last, nodding towards the camera.
You glance down at it fondly. “Well, you know how it is. I have to capture them while I can.” A teasing lilt edges into your voice. “Not all of us are night owls.”
He huffs out a humorless laugh. “I’ll never understand what’s so fascinating about watching the same thing happen day after day.”
“But that’s just it — each one is different. Unique and fleeting and … breathtaking.” Your eyes spark with that gentle wonderment he remembers so well, the sight sending a tremor through his chest. “Like getting a front row seat to the greatest show on Earth, but it’s one you’ll never see again.”
You trail off with a small shake of your head, seemingly at a loss to put the feeling into words. Max doesn’t need the explanation — he’s seen that look of childlike awe on your face more times than he can count.
An awkward silence stretches between you, laden with the weight of history and unspoken apologies. You shift your stance, mouth opening as if to say something more.
But Max cuts you off before you can get the words out, unable to bear whatever sentiments might cross those sweet lips of yours. “Toto not joining you this time?” He asks gruffly.
Your expression softens into a fond smile, and it’s like a physical blow to Max’s sternum. He knows that look, has been on the receiving end of it more times than he cares to remember. The way your entire being seems to brighten when you so much as think about someone you love.
“Ah, you know Toto — he’s more of a sunset person,” you say with a light laugh. “I’ve never been able to drag his grumpy butt out of bed for a sunrise.”
Even as his insides curdle with jealousy, Max can’t help the quirk of his lips at the mental image. He could all too easily picture Toto swatting irritably at you, burrowing deeper under the covers to escape the blasted sun.
“But we make it work,” you continue, that loving glow refusing to dim from your eyes. “I take photos of the sunrise to share with him later. And he does the same with the sunsets for me. That way, we both get to experience it in a way.”
The gentle sound of your voice washes over Max like a salve, momentarily easing the tangled knot of regret and longing that’s taken up permanent residence inside him. He watches, transfixed, as the early morning light bathes you in ethereal radiance.
In that moment, he sees it so clearly — the depth of give and take in your relationship with Toto. The effort, large and small, that you both put into nurturing one another’s happiness.
Even when your desires don’t perfectly align. Even when compromise is required.
It’s such a simple gesture, capturing those magical moments to share with your loved one. But it’s one Max was never willing to make when you were with him.
A lump forms in his throat as realization washes over him with unforgiving clarity. You weren’t too sweet for him, as he had so arrogantly assumed time and again. No — the truth, much harder to swallow, is that he was simply too sour for you.
Too selfish, too wrapped up in his own ambitions to make even the smallest concession. Too blind to recognize the magic in the simple things that brought you unbridled joy. Too bitter and jaded to embrace and nurture the beautiful nature that made you … well, you.
And now, after all his careless cruelties and wasted chances, he can only stand idly by and watch as someone else basks in the sweetness of your affection. As someone else goes out of their way, day after day, to put that blinding smile on your face and those stars in your eyes.
Something in Max’s chest cracks and crumbles at the injustice of it all. At the agonizing truth that he let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he couldn’t be bothered to change his sullen ways.
Because you were never too sweet for him … he was too sour for you.
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neverendingford ¡ 1 year ago
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#tag talk#I'm so tired of being the person who has the measured takes. I'm so tired of being the advice dispenser#I'm so tired of being the one to say “well they might have misunderstood and that's why they responded that way”#AND I'M SO TIRED OF BEING RIGHT ABOUT IT#It would be one thing if I were just stupidly optimistic and wrong. but I keep being right. people do usually improve if you invest in them#and I'm tired of the answer always being “work harder”. I know that “I can fix him” is a meme but what if I keep successfully fixing people?#what if my success translates into an obligation to continue trying? what if my being right means I have to keep speaking truth out loud#what if my empathy for others means I have to keep listening to their problems.#I want to feel wanted but I'm so tired of being wanted. I want to be drawn to people but I'm tired of my bones being pulled apart#do I just need to spend time with people smarter than me? I'm tired of being the smartest in the room.#I'm not being arrogant. I'm fucking lonely. do you know what it's like to have no one to call you on your mistakes?#I don't want to do the know it all thing where I assume I'm right and have no one to call me on it.#so tired of people being afraid to tell me I'm probably wrong simply because I'm right so often#I want to be around people who don't treat me like some sort of novelty chat bot. able to generate the wildest dialogue at a moment's notice#i need to look for community once I get settled in here.#but I'm afraid It'll just turn into the same dynamic as it always does#I enjoyed my community group on Tuesday but I never got anything out of it besides generic social. I corrected. I taught. I lectured#I'm tired of feeling like I know everything already. I want something new. something unique#multiplayer games have more longevity because humans offer variation and creativity. . sometimes#what do you do when they stop giving you that variation. that novelty. that unique flavor#what do you do when everything starts tasting the same#I think it's just the moving stress getting to me. plus I have to confront someone about being an asshole to me and I don't wanna#because I know why they were rude. they're stressed out of their mind about stuff too. I get it. but now I feel shitty#you can't offload your stress to someone else. you can't allow it to flow through you and strike someone else. I can't allow that#but ughhhh I'm also tired as fuck. that's part of it too.#bye I'm gonna go brush my teeth comb my hair and go to bed I guess
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cutelikeharry ¡ 1 month ago
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After Credits. Janitor Levi Ackerman x Fem Reader Smut, 18+
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Summary: Every Friday night, she escapes the stress of her senior year of college by unwinding at the movies. There, she meets Levi, an attractive janitor who isn’t happy with her habit of staying after the credits roll. But after an argument, their tension snaps, and she discovers that cleaning isn’t the only thing he’s good at.
☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆ ⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆ ⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆ ⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾
She had found herself at the cinema again. As a senior in uni, the stress of her final year was overwhelming, and Friday nights had become her personal tradition, the one time she could disconnect from the pressures of university life. It was her thing. Taking a break from her hectic schedule to enjoy the quiet solitude that only a cinema could offer. As an undergrad, she didn’t have much time to go out, but movies… movies were her escape.
She had started visiting the local cinema more often, choosing films based on what seemed interesting at the time, usually romance. She usually took the very last showings of the night, when the cinema was emptier and the darkened theater felt like her own little world.
Tonight was no different. She’d picked a romantic movie, nothing too special, but it had kept her entertained. The movie ended, the credits rolled, and the theater started emptying. People got up and left, chatting with friends or heading out, but she stayed in her seat, like always.
She had a habit of waiting until the very end. Some movies, especially the ones that were a little more mainstream, sometimes had extra scenes after the credits. She didn’t want to miss that, so she stayed seated, finishing off the last of her popcorn and waiting for any hidden surprises.
When the last of the people walked out, the theater went quiet. She looked around at the empty seats, then turned back to the screen. The soundtrack music from the movie, as the credits rolled, was the only sound. She was alone now, but she didn’t mind. This was her moment of peace.
That’s when she saw him.
A familiar figure appeared at the theater entrance. A man in his thirties carrying a broom, with a cart full of cleaning supplies beside him.
She knew him by now, if only in passing. She’d always be the last to leave, lingering for after-credit scenes, and he was always the one waiting, clearly annoyed by her habit. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes landing on her before he rolled them with his usual annoyance. 
She was caught off guard but didn’t let it show. She just kept eating her popcorn, ignoring him as he started sweeping up the mess from the theater. He went around picking up trash, moving up the rows. 
She had seen him before, but she never paid much attention to him until now. She noticed he was... attractive. His sharp features, the dark hair swept up in an undercut that looked a little too stylish for a janitor, and the slight shadow of dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t gotten much sleep in a while. 
Well, then again, it was past midnight, and he still had to clean up everyone’s mess, so it was understandable.
The light blue uniform stretched over his toned arms, his muscles flexing with each motion. His hands looked strong, veins visible, and she found herself watching him longer than she meant to.
He finished sweeping the lower rows and then headed up the aisle, skipping past a few rows before stopping directly at hers. She stayed seated, but she felt his presence as he walked toward her, stopping right next to her. She looked up at him, confused, wondering what he wanted.  
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to ignore him, but it was hard. His eyes remained on her. Her attention instinctively darted back towards the screen, trying to focus on the credits, but every time she glanced back, she found his eyes still fixed on her. His expression was unreadable, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking. She didn’t know what he wanted. Had she done something wrong?
Her eyes caught a small card hanging from around his neck. ‘A name tag’, she realized.
‘Levi Ackerman.’
“You’re still here?” Levi asked, clearly annoyed. His voice was low, a little tired.
She blinked, unsure how to respond to his comment. “Yeah… I’m waiting for the after-credits.”
He glanced shortly at the rolling credits, then back at her, his expression flat. "It's a romance movie. They don't do after-credits for this kind of thing."
She raised an eyebrow as she kept eating her popcorn. “You don’t know that. Maybe they do. Maybe there’s a surprise.”
Levi rolled his eyes before once again glancing at the screen. The credits were almost finished, the final names scrolling by, and she held her breath, hoping for more. But there was nothing. The screen turned off completely.
Her face dropped slightly, feeling a bit disappointed. She had been hoping for something, even though she knew deep down it was unlikely.
“See? No after-credits. Now, get out.”
She frowned, standing up, her hand gripping the bucket of popcorn a little tighter. “Hey, no need to be rude. I just wanted to see if there was something left. After-credits can be just as important as the movie, you know?”
Levi's expression didn’t soften. “You know, it’s Friday night, right? Most people go out and hang out with friends. Not sit here alone waiting for the credits to end.”
She felt her irritation rising. She wasn’t sure why he was being so condescending, but it was getting under her skin. “Maybe I like the quiet,” she shot back.
Levi didn’t seem to care much. He just gave a small shrug. “Whatever. Just take your popcorn and leave. I’ve got another theater to deal with before I can leave.”
She clenched her jaw, annoyed by the way he dismissed her. She didn’t want to leave just because he told her to, but what could she do? She was already standing.
She took the popcorn bucket and walked down the stairs, heading for the exit. Before she left, she turned to glance back at him. He was already back to cleaning, his broom moving over the floor, barely paying her any mind.
She stormed out of the theater, fists tight. His attitude pissed her off. He was a total jerk. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about his stupidly handsome face.
As the week went on and she attended her lectures, she couldn't shake him from her thoughts. She was angry with herself for not speaking up when he made those rude remarks, but she couldn't deny the way his light blue uniform clung to his muscular frame as he swept the theater. Her mind kept replaying images of him, making it impossible for her to concentrate on the lecture in front of her.
‘He's not even that good looking.’ she repeated, trying to convince herself that he was just another ordinary guy. But that wasn’t entirely true, was it? Every time she tried to brush it off, something about him kept pulling her back. She couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but it lingered in her mind, pulling her in despite her best efforts to ignore it.
‘Focus. You’re here to learn, not fantasize about some janitor.’ She’d shake her head, but still, the image of him would linger. She’d catch herself daydreaming, completely losing track of the professor’s words as she pictured him. 
Levi Ackerman, his name still fresh in her mind. 
By the time the next Friday rolled around, she had already decided it was time to escape again. 
Her weekly trip to the cinema had become a need. The place where she could leave her distractions behind. 
As she walked up to the ticket counter, she glanced at the list of movies showing. She’d seen them all except for one. 
It was a romance movie, but not like the ones she usually went for. This one had a big, bold "18+" slapped on it. She’d heard the rumors about this movie. Mostly graphic, erotic scenes. 
She hesitated, unsure. She wasn’t typically into movies that were this explicit, but something about the idea of watching it nagged at her. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe she was just looking for something different.
She shrugged, deciding to buy a ticket anyway. ‘One time won’t hurt,’ she thought, not really believing the excuse herself. She bought her popcorn and drink, then made her way towards the theater.
The theater was half empty as usual, and she picked her usual seat in the back row. She preferred it there. The middle rows were always too crowded, and the back gave her the space to settle in without distractions. She popped some popcorn into her mouth and sat down, waiting for the commercials to finish and the movie to start.
The movie wasn’t anything special at first. Just a young couple falling in love, the kind of story that was predictable, but still heartwarming. But as the film went on, it started pushing past what she’d expected, with scenes that felt... different. Graphic. Intimate. 
Her face heated up at certain moments. Scenes that felt way too graphic to be on the big screen. She shifted in her seat, trying to keep her focus on the screen, but it was hard. The scenes were almost uncomfortable to watch, not because they were poorly done, but because they felt too real. 
She didn’t know if she was more embarrassed by what was happening on screen or the fact that she was watching it by herself.
She couldn’t help but wonder. Would that Levi guy ever watch a movie like this? The thought made her stomach twist. It was strange, but she couldn’t shake the image of him in her mind, now mixing with the images on the screen. ‘God! What am I thinking?’ she scolded herself, trying to shake off the thoughts that were slowly creeping in.
As soon as the movie ended, she made a quick decision. She wasn’t about to stick around for another awkward run-in with Levi. She didn’t need to hear his comments about her watching that type of movie by herself on a Friday night. 
Her face was still flushed from the scenes she’d just watched, and the last thing she needed was him making some comment about her choice in media. Besides, she was almost sure there would be no after-credit scenes in this one.
As the credits rolled and the lights turned back on, people started gathering their things and heading towards the exits. She quickly stood up, grabbed her popcorn and drink, and without looking back, hurried down, weaving through the small crowd and skipping a few steps as she went.
Pushing open the door, she stepped into the hallway, her pace quickening as she made her way towards the exit. But as she rounded a corner, her elbow brushed against someone, and in an instant, her drink spilled across her white t-shirt. She cursed under her breath as the cold liquid soaked through the fabric, splashing onto the floor and sending popcorn tumbling everywhere.
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” she blurted out, rushing to pick up the fallen paper cup and popcorn bucket. The mess was overwhelming. Most of the drink had already soaked into her shirt, leaving her feeling embarrassed as she frantically tried to clean up.
And then, she looked up. Standing there, watching her, was Levi.
She froze. She was still kneeling on the floor, her cheeks burning. She didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t expected to run into him again. Let alone like this. He looked a little taken aback, his expression unreadable, as he took in the scene. She could feel her face heating up even more, but she didn’t say anything. Her mouth felt dry, and she could feel the awkwardness wrapping around her, suffocating her.
As she stood up, she noticed Levi’s eyes flicker downward for a split second, widening just slightly before he looked away. It was subtle, but she caught it.
Then she realized why. The spilled drink had soaked through her shirt, and under the bright lights, her white t-shirt had turned slightly see-through, leaving little to the imagination. 
Her stomach dropped, and her face flushed intensely. She quickly pulled her jacket closed, covering herself as best she could. 
“I—I’ll just—uh, sorry,” she mumbled before she quickly turned and headed towards the bathroom. 
The bathroom was empty, as expected for this time at night. The cinema was practically deserted by now. She took her jacket off, then pulled off her shirt, trying not to think about the mess she’d just caused, leaving her in just her bra. 
She leaned over the sink, trying to scrub away the large stain from the spilled drink. The water splashed around, but the stain didn’t seem to want to go anywhere. 
She glanced up, her eyes landing on a small vending machine inside the bathroom, stocked with painkillers, tampons, and condoms. She raised an eyebrow, wondering to herself, ‘Do people actually do it in here?’
As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, she couldn’t ignore the redness in her cheeks. Her face was still burning, and she found herself thinking about what had just happened.
‘He probably has to clean it up,’ she thought, her stomach twisting. He was probably furious. She felt guilty, even though she knew it was an accident. 
But then, her thoughts shifted once again. ‘Why the hell do I keep thinking about him?!’ she thought frustrated, trying to focus on getting the stain out of her shirt.
Her breath caught as the thought of him mixed with scenes from the movie she’d just watched. It felt like everything was colliding all at once. The way he looked at her, and the intimate scenes she’d just seen on screen. She could feel her heartbeat quicken as her mind wandered, the images of Levi and the movie blending together in her thoughts, with herself somehow caught in the middle.
‘Gosh. What’s wrong with you?’ she scolded herself, gripping the edge of the sink.
The heat between her legs grew more intense as she imagined him standing over her, his strong arms wrapping around her, pulling her close. She pictured the sensation of his lips against her neck, sending shivers down her spine, and his hand slipping under her shirt. She couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to have him inside of her, his thick cock pushing deep inside of her.
Her breath quickened as her fingers instinctively brushed against the dampness of her panties beneath her skirt. A soft gasp escaped her lips as she gently rubbed herself through the thin fabric, her mind still filled with thoughts of Levi. She could almost feel his touch against her body. Her fingers moved in slow circles, sending waves of pleasure through her core.
She leaned against the bathroom counter, her legs trembling slightly as she continued to touch herself. Her free hand gripped the edge of the sink tightly as she increased the pressure and speed of her movements. Soft whimpers echoed in the empty bathroom as she neared her peak.
Suddenly, the sound of voices in the hallway snapped her back to reality. Her eyes flew open as she yanked her hand away, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. What was she doing? This was a public bathroom in a movie theater!
She shook her head, trying to bring herself back to reality. She splashed cold water on her face, hoping it would help clear her mind and wash away the lingering embarrassment and confusion. 
After scrubbing the last traces of the drink out of her shirt, she wrung the fabric out as best as she could. The shirt was still damp and a little cold against her skin as she put it back on, but at least it was clean. 
She slipped on her jacket and took one last look in the mirror, noticing that while her face was still flushed, but it was nowhere near the tomato-red shade it had been moments before.
She took a deep breath and opened the door of the bathroom, peeking out and glancing around to make sure Levi wasn’t lurking nearby.
Relieved to find the hallway empty, she slipped out and headed towards the exit, hoping to put this entire night behind her. But as she neared the main lobby, she slipped her hand into her jacket pocket, only to feel nothing. 
Her phone wasn’t there.
She froze mid-step, her eyes widening as she patted down her other pockets, searching. But it was no use. A sinking feeling hit her as she realized she must have left it back in the theater.
She sighed sharply as she retraced her steps in her mind. Of all nights, why tonight? She brushed her hands over her jacket one last time, then took a deep breath, accepting she’d have to go back and get it. 
Swallowing her frustration, she turned around and began the walk back towards the theater room, hoping she could just grab her phone, and get out without another awkward encounter.
She slipped back into the theater, relieved to find it empty. No Levi. Perfect. She hurried up the stairs, heading straight to her seat at the top row, scanning the floor as she approached. 
She leaned down, checking under the seat, then behind it, but her phone was nowhere to be found. Frustration started to bubble up just as she heard a voice from below.
“Forgot something?”
She froze, the annoyance hitting her instantly as she recognized that voice. With a sigh, she squinted in irritation and slowly turned around, spotting Levi at the bottom row, holding up her phone between his fingers. 
He didn’t even seem annoyed that he’d probably had to clean up her mess just a few minutes ago. He just stood there, as deadpan as ever.
She exhaled sharply, walking down the stairs to meet him. Levi watched her approach, and just as she was close enough, he tossed her phone up. 
She caught it with ease, pressing her lips together in a tight, annoyed smile as she raised her eyebrows, holding up the phone in acknowledgment. “Thanks,” she said, turning quickly to leave, hoping this would be the end of it.
But of course, Levi couldn’t resist.
“Interesting choice of film for a Friday night,” he commented dryly.
She stopped in her tracks. Really? She turned back around, rolling her eyes slightly as she tried to think of a response. 
“There’s nothing wrong with a girl enjoying… you know… erotica,” she replied, her voice coming out a bit more awkwardly than intended. 
She mentally cringed, hating that he was making her explain herself.
“If you say so.” He said unimpressed. "Must be desperate for excitement if that’s what you’re doing by yourself on a Friday night."
Her cheeks burned, but she wasn’t about to let him have the last word this time. “Not everyone watches these movies just for the scenes, you know,” she added defiantly, raising an eyebrow.
Levi paused, then looked at her with a skeptical tilt of his head, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, please. You’re not about to tell me you watched this movie for the plot.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Maybe I did,” she said, though her voice wavered a little, clearly not convincing him.
He scoffed, stepping a bit closer. “Sure. Bet you were on the edge of your seat, real invested in their deep, meaningful conversations, right?”
Her mouth opened, then shut again as she struggled for a comeback. “Some of us appreciate storytelling,” she stuttered with as much dignity as she could muster, though the faint smirk in his eyes told her he wasn’t buying a word of it.
“Right,” he replied, deadpan. “Nothing says quality storytelling like an R-rated romance movie.”
She clenched her jaw slightly, both embarrassed and annoyed. “I just wanted to experiment with something new,” she replied, crossing her arms defensively.
“Could always try meeting real people for that.” He turned away, picking up his broom to continue his work, leaving her feeling even more flustered. 
She held her ground, arms crossed, eyeing him with a smirk that dared him to react. “Says the guy who probably hasn’t even been with a woman before.”
Levi paused mid-sweep, a faint chuckle escaping as he glanced at her over his shoulder. But he didn’t get defensive. He looked almost amused. “If that’s what you think,” he replied, the slightest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he returned to his work.
She raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening as she crossed her arms a bit tighter. ‘Oh,’ she thought, her heart beating a little faster. 
Most men would get flustered or defensive at comments like that, but him? He just looked back at her, calm and unfazed. Somehow, his confidence only made him more attractive.
She took a step closer, unable to stop herself. She found herself drawn in by the tension building between them. “Really?" she challenged again playfully. “And just how many women have you been with, Mr. Janitor?”
Levi turned fully towards her. His eyes swept over her from head to toe, lingering just a bit longer than necessary before replying, making her pulse quicken.
He set the broom aside and leaned casually against the wall. "Enough to know what I'm doing," he said. 
Her pulse quickened, but she refused to back down. She held his stare, stepping even closer. "Is that so?" she murmured. 
Levi smirked, noticing how close she stood as he looked at her, her cleavage pressing against his chest. His eyes darkened, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What? You don’t believe me?”
Her heart raced as she met his eyes, a teasing smile pulling at her lips. Her breath quickened, but her eyes remained teasing. She stepped a fraction closer, her fingers sliding slowly up the back of his neck, her fingers into his undercut. She leaned closer, pulling him in just a little, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “Maybe I need some…proof.” 
Levi’s hand shot out before she could react, his fingers threading through the back of her hair with a harsh grip, yanking her head back. The sudden force caught her off guard, and before she could protest, his lips crashed against hers. Rough, urgent, and without hesitation. 
Levi’s other hand gripped her waist as he pulled her closer, his hold tightening. His fingers dug deeper into her hair, pulling her even further into the kiss, the pressure making her breath catch in her throat.
“You want proof?” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and rough. “You’re getting more than that.”
Her pulse quickened as her surroundings came rushing back. She glanced around, remembering they were in a movie theater. A flicker of hesitation crossed her face as she pulled back slightly, just enough to catch her breath.
“What if someone sees us?” she whispered, the thrill of the moment mixing with the risk, making her heart pound harder.
Levi closed the space between them again, his mouth brushing hers as he spoke, “No one will. The place’s closed by now. They lock up after the last show,” he murmured. 
Levi's hands slid down to her hips, gripping them firmly. His lips trailed hot kisses along her jawline and down her neck, earning a soft moan from her. 
Without warning, Levi's hands moved lower, squeezing her ass possessively. She gasped at the bold move, her body tensing briefly before melting into his touch. His strong fingers kneaded the soft flesh, pulling her even closer against him. 
Levi lifted her right leg, hooking it around his waist. The new position pressed their bodies together intimately, and her breath caught as she felt the hard bulge throbbing against her center. Even through layers of clothing, the heat radiating between them was intense. Her breath hitched as Levi ground his hips against her, the friction sending pleasure through her core. His hands gripped her other thigh, lifting her up and pressing her back against the wall. 
Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he pinned her there. His mouth found her neck again. He sucked gently on her skin before trailing open-mouthed kisses down to her collarbone. She tilted her head back, giving him better access as soft moans escaped her lips.
“Levi…,” she moaned.
Levi's hands slid under her jacket, his calloused fingers tracing gentle patterns on the bare skin of her back, sending a shiver down her spine. In one swift motion, he slipped the jacket off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered.
She shivered, her heart racing as she felt his warm breath against her skin. She couldn’t believe how much she wanted him, how much she needed him. “I want you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. 
Levi’s smirk lingered as he slowly lowered her back down to the floor, his hands steady on her waist. His breath was hot against her lips before he leaned in again, capturing her mouth in a deeper, more possessive kiss. His tongue brushed softly against hers, drawing her in until she melted against him, her fingers curling into his shirt as the intensity between them grew.
She pulled away from the kiss, her heart racing as she looked up at him. Without a word, she slowly sank to her knees in front of him, her fingers trailing down his chest and abdomen as she went. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, the tension in his muscles as her hands explored.
She reached for his belt. The metal felt cold against her skin as she struggled to unfasten it, overcome with excitement. After a few moments, she finally managed to undo it, the sound of metal clinking.
Her breath quickened as she tugged at his zipper, pulling it down quickly. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his pants, her knuckles brushing against his lower abdomen before she slowly pulled down his pants and boxers, revealing his hard cock. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the sight of him, thick and fully erect. She glanced up at him through her lashes, her cheeks flushed. 
Levi's hand tangled in her hair, guiding her closer. She parted her lips, her tongue teasingly darting out to lick the tip. She heard Levi's sharp intake of breath and felt emboldened. Slowly, she took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head as she began to bob up and down his erection.
Levi groaned softly, his fingers tightening in her hair. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath. 
She hollowed her cheeks, taking him deeper. She could feel him hitting the back of her throat as she moved, her tongue swirling around him. Levi's grip on her hair tightened, guiding her movements.
"That's it," he murmured with desire. "Take it all."
She looked up at him through her lashes, her eyes watering slightly. The sight of her lips wrapped around him, her eyes locked on his, sent a jolt of pleasure through Levi's body. He thrust his hips forward, pushing himself further into her mouth.
Her hands gripped his thighs, feeling the muscles tense beneath her fingers. She quickened her pace, her head bobbing faster as she sucked him harder.
Levi's breathing grew ragged, his chest heaving as he neared his peak. "I'm close," he warned, his voice strained.
She locked eyes with him, maintaining eye contact as she took him as deep as she could. Her throat relaxed, allowing him to slide further in. She swallowed around him, the muscles of her throat contracting.
Levi groaned deeply, his hips jerking forward. "Fuck, I'm gonna—" 
He didn’t finish his sentence before she felt his hand on the back of her head, drawing her closer. The warm liquid hit the back of her throat. She swallowed quickly, her eyes watering slightly as she took everything he gave her. 
As the last pulses lingered, Levi gently pulled out of her mouth. He looked down at her, wiping away the bit of saliva spilling from her mouth with his thumb. 
Levi pulled her to her feet, his eyes roaming over her flushed face. Without warning, he spun her around and pushed her against the wall. His hands slid up her thighs, bunching her skirt around her waist. 
"Spread your legs," he commanded.
She obeyed, her heart pounding. Levi's fingers traced teasing patterns along her inner thighs, inching higher but not quite touching where she desperately wanted him.
"Please," she whimpered, pressing her hips back against him.
Levi chuckled darkly. "Patience," he murmured, nipping at her earlobe. His fingers finally slipped through her damp panties, sliding between her folds.
She gasped as he began stroking her, his fingers circling her clit before dipping lower to tease her entrance.
"So wet already," Levi murmured in her ear. "Is this what you wanted when you came to watch that movie? To be touched like this?"
She could only whimper in response as Levi slid two fingers inside her, curling them to hit that perfect spot. Her hips bucked against his hand, desperate for more friction.
Levi's other hand slid up to cup her breast through her shirt, beneath her bra, his thumb brushing over her hardened nipple. She arched into his touch, soft moans escaping her lips.
His fingers pumped in and out of her at a steady pace, his thumb circling her clit. The sensation had her trembling against him, her legs shaking as the pleasure built within her core.
Her breath came in ragged gasps as Levi continued to work his fingers inside her. Levi's breath was hot against her neck, his chest pressed firmly against her back as he held her in place.
With a low groan, Levi slowly withdrew his fingers, leaving her whimpering at the loss. But before she could protest, he spun her around to face him, crashing his lips against hers in a desperate kiss.
Her arms wrapped around his neck as she pressed herself against him. Levi's hands roamed her body, one tangling in her hair while the other gripped her hip. His tongue swept into her mouth as their kiss deepened. 
Levi forcefully pulled her closer, their tongues tangled in a heated kiss. He pushed her onto one of the front-row seats, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he knelt before her, making sure she couldn't escape his grasp as their lips remained locked in passion.
His hand slid under her shirt, his fingers tracing along her spine as they traveled upward. She shivered, her breath hitching as he found her bra strap, his fingers pausing just briefly before unhooking it with ease. She slid the bra straps down her shoulders and tugged it free, tossing it to the floor beside them. 
Levi pulled back, his hands slid under the hem of her shirt, lifting it slowly. The fabric bunched and gathered, rising up just enough to reveal her bare chest, but he stopped before taking it off completely. He paused briefly, admiring the sight before him, and then lowered his head to take one of her nipples between his lips, his tongue gently sucking and circling around it.
Levi’s other hand slid down to her thigh, his fingers tracing the edge of her panties under her skirt. He glanced up at her, a silent question in his eyes. She nodded, breath quickening. With a slight smile, he eased her panties down, sliding them off before spreading her legs open, revealing her pussy to him.
Her heavy breathing filled the air as she felt the cool air brush against her sensitive skin. Levi looked up at her, his eyes filled with lust. He leaned in, his warm breath tickling her skin as he kissed her inner thigh. She shivered, her body trembling with anticipation. She could feel his tongue tracing a line up her thigh, closer and closer to her entrance. Her breathing got heavier, her fingers gripping the seat as she felt his tongue brush against her.
His hands gripped her thighs, holding her open as he explored her folds with his tongue. She gasped as Levi's tongue flicked against her clit. He started slow, teasing licks that had her squirming.
"Oh god—," she moaned, her head falling back against the seat.
Levi's tongue circled her clit before dipping lower to tease her entrance. He lapped at her wetness, savoring her taste as her hips bucked against his face. 
Her fingers tangled in Levi's hair, tugging lightly as pleasure coursed through her. He groaned against her, the vibrations sending sparks through her core. His tongue plunged inside her, fucking her as his nose rubbed against her clit.
"Ah, Levi," she gasped, her hips grinding against his face as waves of pleasure washed over her. His tongue worked expertly, alternating between long, slow licks and quick flicks against her most sensitive spots.
Levi's body tensed as he watched her gentle whimpers turn into desperate moans. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, and his own arousal was hard to ignore. With each movement and breath, she stirred something within him. His cock throbbed in response, and he struggled to resist the urge to take her right then and there.
Her thighs began to tremble as she felt the tension building within her. Levi sensed her approaching climax and increased his efforts, his tongue circling her clit faster as he slid two fingers inside her. He curled them upwards, stroking that perfect spot inside her as his mouth continued to work on her clit. 
"Oh god, I'm gonna—" she cried out, her back arching as her orgasm hit her hard. Her body shook with the intensity of it, waves of pleasure radiating outwards from her core. Levi didn't let up, his fingers and tongue working her through every aftershock until she collapsed. 
Her body trembled as the waves of pleasure slowly went down. Levi pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked up at her with dark, hungry eyes. She was still catching her breath, eyes closed, chest rising and falling, when he stood and sat down in the seat beside her.
The distinct sound of a wrapper caught her attention, snapping her eyes open. She turned to see Levi pulling out a condom. He tore it open with his teeth and rolled it onto his already erect cock. A sharp pang of jealousy shot through her as she desperately tried to ignore the thought of him using this same routine with other girls at the movies.
She gasped, caught off guard as Levi suddenly lifted her and pulled her towards him, his hands firm on her waist. In one fluid, swift motion, he had her straddling his lap, her knees resting on either side of his legs, and her chest pressed close against his, her arms instinctively finding their way to the top of his shoulders. The unexpected intimacy left her breathless, her heart pounding as she met his intense stare. 
"You sure about this?" Levi asked. 
She nodded eagerly as she felt the head of his cock brush against her wet entrance, teasing her. "Yes, please," she breathed.
She gasped as Levi slowly guided her hips down, his thick cock stretching her as he entered her. She gripped his shoulders tightly, her nails digging into his skin as she adjusted to his size. Levi groaned softly, his hands on her waist as he helped her sink down onto him inch by inch.
"Fuck, you're tight," Levi muttered, his voice strained.
She whimpered as she finally took him all the way inside her. She paused for a moment, panting softly as she got used to the feeling of fullness. Levi's hands roamed her body, caressing her sides and back as he waited patiently for her to be ready.
After a few breaths, she began to move, rolling her hips experimentally. She slowly lifted herself, then sank back down onto Levi's cock. She started moving up and down in a gentle rhythm, enjoying every second of the feeling of him stretching and filling her with each thrust. Levi's hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements as he thrust up to meet her.
"God, you feel amazing," she gasped, her head falling back as pleasure coursed through her.
Levi leaned closer, pressing his face into her bouncing breasts. He kissed a path down her cleavage before taking one into his mouth and sucking eagerly, leaving behind small red marks that would surely be visible later. His hands slid up her back, pulling her closer as their pace quickened.
Her moans grew louder as Levi hit deeper inside her. She clung to him tightly, her nails digging into his back as the pleasure built. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the empty theater, mixing with their heavy breathing and gasps of pleasure.
Levi's hands gripped her ass, guiding her movements as he thrust up into her. He could feel her walls clenching around him, drawing him in deeper with each roll of her hips.
"Fuck, you feel so good," Levi groaned in her ear.
She whimpered in response, her movements becoming more frantic as she chased her release. She moved hard against him, feeling the friction of his cock hitting all the right spots inside her.
Levi sensed her growing desperation and suddenly gripped her hips, stilling her movements. Before she could protest, Levi lifted her off him and spun her around. 
"Bend over," he commanded.
Her heart raced as she obeyed, leaning forward and gripping the seat in front of her. She felt exposed and vulnerable in this position, but the thrill of it sent shivers down her spine.
Levi's hands roamed over her ass, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh. He spread her cheeks, exposing her wet pussy to him. She gasped as she felt the head of his cock teasing her entrance once again. Without warning, Levi thrust forward, filling her completely once again.
She gasped at the sudden fullness, her fingers gripping the seat tighter as Levi began to move. He started with slow, deep thrusts, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through her body, making her gasp loudly.
Levi's hands gripped her hips, steadying her as he lifted her right leg and hooked it over his shoulder, turning her onto her side, as she clung to the backrest of the seat for support. She gasped loudly as Levi slid back inside her, pumping in and out of her in the new angle allowing him to penetrate even deeper than before.
"Ah! Fuck—," she moaned, her voice trembling. 
The position left her exposed, her leg held high as Levi's hand roamed her body. His fingers trailed along her inner thigh, teasing the sensitive skin before sliding up to cup her breast. She arched into his touch, her head falling back against his shoulder as pleasure coursed through her.
"Mmmph!” She bit her lower lip hard, trying to restrain her cries of ecstasy. She could feel him hit a particularly sensitive spot inside her. Her body trembled, growing weak from the intense pleasure as her back arched and her head leaned against the backrest.
Encouraged by her reaction, Levi angled his hips to hit that spot repeatedly. His thrusts became harder and faster, driving her closer to the edge with each movement. She could feel herself getting close, that familiar tension building in her lower abdomen. 
"Oh god, Levi," she gasped, her voice breathy and desperate. "Don't stop. I'm so close."
Levi’s grip on her hip tightened as he continued his relentless pace. 
"You want more?" Levi asked with a smirk.
"Yes," she whimpered. "Please, I need more."
Levi's fingers found her clit, tracing circles around it in time with his thrusts. Her body trembled as Levi's fingers focused on her clit. The dual sensations of his cock hitting deep inside her and his fingers on her most sensitive spot quickly pushed her towards the edge. Her breath came in short, desperate gasps as the pressure built.
"Oh god, oh god," she chanted, her voice rising in pitch. "I'm gonna come, I'm gonna—"
Her words cut off in a loud cry as her orgasm crashed over her. Her entire body contracting with release, her back arching as the pleasure radiated through her. Her cunt clenched around Levi's cock, drawing him in deeper.
Levi groaned at the feeling of her pulsing around him. He lowered her leg back to the floor before he continued thrusting through her climax, prolonging her pleasure. His movements became more erratic as he neared his own release. 
Her body trembled as the aftershocks of her peak rippled through her. Levi's breathing became ragged as he chased his own release. His fingers dug into her hips, pulling her back against him with each thrust.
"Fuck, I'm close," Levi groaned, his voice strained.
She gasped as she pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts as she felt him swell inside her. Levi let out a final, deep thrust and buried himself completely as he reached his climax. He let out a deep, raspy moan as he came, his hips jerking against her as he filled the condom.
For a moment, they stayed still, both panting heavily as they came down from their highs. Slowly, Levi’s grip on her relaxed and he slowly pulled out, causing her to whimper softly at the loss. He carefully removed the condom, tying it off and setting it aside to dispose of later.
She sat up properly in her seat, pulling her shirt down and fixing her skirt, just as Levi pulled up his pants before sitting beside her. They both sat quietly, their breathing slowly going back to normal.
She could feel the heat from Levi's body next to hers. Her skin felt warm and damp with sweat.
She ran a hand through her messy hair, trying to smooth it down.
Levi leaned his head back against the seat. She glanced over at him, taking in his profile in the dim light. She felt unsure what to say or do now that the heat of the moment had passed.
After a few moments of silence, Levi turned his head slightly, his expression was unreadable as ever. He looked directly at her eyes and she felt her face heating up, suddenly shy in the aftermath of their encounter. 
"So...that happened," she murmured.
Levi exhaled quietly, a faint hint of amusement flashing in his eyes. "Not something you usually do on a Friday night, I assume." His tone was as dry as usual, but there was a hint of warmth underneath.
She laughed awkwardly, shaking her head. "Yeah. Definitely not. This was...unexpected."
"Beats watching those cheesy romance movies alone, doesn't it?"
She rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling."Some of those movies have their charms."
"Sure they do," Levi replied dryly. 
They fell into silence again, but it felt more comfortable now. Her mind was racing, trying to process everything that had just happened. Part of her couldn't believe she'd just had sex with the grumpy janitor in an empty movie theater. Another part of her was already wondering if it would happen again.
"What about you? Is this... a regular thing for you?" She asked.
Levi's expression remained neutral. "Fucking strangers in the theater? Can't say it is." He said looking up at the ceiling.
She bit her lip, hesitating before speaking again. "I'm Y/N, by the way… In case you were wondering who you just… you know."
"Levi," he replied, even though she had just moaned his name a few moments ago.
"So..." she started hesitantly. "Do you make a habit of this? Hooking up with girls after hours?"
Levi turned to look at her fully, his expression serious.
"No," Levi said firmly, his eyes locking onto hers. “I don’t. Not really my thing."
Levi’s words hung in the air for a moment before her mind caught up with them. She blinked, trying to process what he had just said. “Wait, really?”
Levi turned his head slightly, his expression blank. “Why would you think otherwise?” he asked.
She bit her lip, feeling a flush creep up her neck. She shifted uncomfortably, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.
“Well… you had a condom,” she murmured, glancing away. “Kinda seemed like you carry those around at work… you know, just in case.”
Levi’s expression remained deadpan. “I don’t carry them for fun. I have to refill those stupid vending machines in the bathrooms,” he said flatly. “It’s just part of the job.”
She blinked, surprised. She hadn’t expected that answer. Her mind raced as the details sank in, and it actually made sense.
“Oh,” she said, a small laugh escaping her. “Well, that’s... practical.”
Levi nodded as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’d be surprised how often people go to the bathroom for more than just business,” he added disgusted.
Her cheeks burned, and she couldn’t help but laugh awkwardly. The memory of her rushing into the bathroom just a few minutes ago flooded back “Yeah,” she said awkwardly. “That’s... weird.”
They sat in silence for another moment, the air between them charged with an unfamiliar tension. 
Her mind raced, unsure what to do or say next. Part of her wanted to lean in and kiss him again, to see if the spark was still there. Another part felt suddenly self-conscious, hyperaware of her messy appearance and the fact that she had just fucked a man she barely knew.
"So,” Levi said, snapping her out of her thoughts, and breaking the silence. “You got anything else planned for tonight?" he asked, his eyes never leaving her. 
She was caught off guard by the question. She hesitated for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts before answering, "Uh...no, not really," she said. 
She hadn't expected him to ask her something so casual, especially after everything that had just happened.
Levi’s lips curled into a sly smirk, his eyes filled with intrigue as he leaned in closer. He gently lifted her chin and tilted her head back, causing her to look up at him.
"Good," he said as he ran his thumb down her lip, watching her closely as she trembled under his touch. "Because I'm not done with you yet."
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shares-a-vest ¡ 2 months ago
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'Steve Harrington – Actual Babysitter?' (Drabble Prompt: Fluff)
Eddie walks into Family Video expecting to find Steve lolling on his swivel chair behind the counter and flipping through a magazine instead of doing... Well, whatever actually is written on that clipboard Robin is typically flapping about for fear of the wrath of Keith.
But Robin isn't in today and the store is quiet. Aka, it's the perfect opportunity for Eddie to come in with Steve's lunch, where they sit together and chat. No, he doesn't bring it every Wednesday like clockwork. And no, he isn't bringing along his own lunch so he can pretend it's a date or anything.
No – definitely nothing like that.
Even if there is some banter that some people (Robin) might describe as flirting.
It's just that he has to take what he can get lately when it comes to his kinda-sorta big, fat, dumb crush on Steve. Especially now that the guy is disappointingly incommunicado on their no-longer Sunday Night pizzas.
Steve insists he isn't dating anyone – and he sure is complaining about that fact enough. But, well...
Eddie does worry.
And he damn near panics at the sight of an empty Family Video. The store is eerily silent too as he steps inside and looks around.
"St – "
"– Oovie!"
Eddie jolts with a yelp as the babbling yell of what could only be the shrill tones of a whole-ass human child reverberates around him.
"Yes, buddy," comes Steve's voice from behind the counter, "Oh – well, maybe not Rambo."
Eddie tip-toes forward and places his hands on the counter before he peers over the edge, where he finds Steve surrounded by the parts of a dismantled VCR. In his lap is indeed a human child, a boy with chestnut brown hair who couldn't be more than two.
He doesn't know all that much about kids, really, but Eddie is pretty certain the little squirt shouldn't be waving around a videotape with such force Steve might get clomped in the head at any moment.
The boy yell-babbles again and Steve swerves away from a side swipe to his beautiful noggin.
"Okay, maybe we shouldn't play with this one," Steve says, gently placing his hand on the tape and giving it a light tug.
The boy squirms, and in doing so makes direct eye contact with Eddie. They both startle, and Eddie thinks if anyone was watching, they might say his eyes look as wide as the kid's staring up at him.
The boy points at Eddie and coos with a big, toothy grin.
"Stee!"
"Can you stop –" Steve grumbles, cutting himself off as the boy begins to tilt them sideways. He looks up and gasps, "Oh!"
Steve scrambles upright with the boy, who makes an (admittedly, adorable) wooshing sound as he is swooped up and bundled into a pair of burly arms that today appear to be bursting out of the confines of a navy blue polo shirt.
Eddie blushes, looking back at the boy in an attempt to regulate his heart rate.
"What's with the baby, Steve?" he says, trying to sound biting rather than flustered as Steve props the kid on his hip like it's second nature.
Steve takes the boy's hand and bounces him a little as he tries to encourage a wave, "You know Angie, my mom's best friend? This is her kid, George."
George finally waves and Steve grins, all proud in a way that makes Eddie's cheeks blush. Shit, he really wasn't prepared for something like this to happen today.
Or maybe like ever, really.
"George," he nods, offering a two-finger salute.
"Angie stopped by and realised she forgot something over at Melvad's," Steve explains, swaying now as George looks around the store, "So I'm taking care of little Georgie for a minute."
Georgie?
Eddie scrubs a hand over his face.
"I s-see," he splutters as he comes up for air.
"And we are fixing VCRs today, aren't we, Georgie?" Georgie tee-hees at that and oh goddamn it, now the little gremlin is trying to get his tiny, pudgy arms around Steve for a hug, "Then we're gonna pick a movie for Sunday Funday."
"Oovie!" Georgie cheers.
Wait.
"You're babysitting on Sundays?"
"Yeah," Steve shrugs before looking down at George with a fond smile, "I kinda like it, y'know?"
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indecisivemuch ¡ 11 months ago
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Scandalous
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Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader
Summary: The reveal of a scandalous detail about yours and Luke's relationship left you both flustered and everybody else gaping. Inspired by one line from So It Goes - Taylor Swift (fluff, established relationship).
Warning: allusions to sex, but no explicit details.
Word count: 2k
You and Luke have been going out for well over a year now. Yet, he never failed to make you feel like it would be an eternal honeymoon phase: whispers of sweet words about a lifetime’s worth of promises, delicate and sacred touches, looks filling in for unspoken words.
Loving Luke was as easy as having a daily routine - so natural and almost like a grounding thing from the life of a Demigod.
Currently, Luke was training with Percy. You were not too far away either, sparring with Clarisse. Despite the area being occupied by many other Demigods engaging in similar activities, Luke could not help but frequently glance over at you.
Luke has always been mesmerized by the way you combat, which he metaphorically compared to a ballerina. So precise, yet deadly. Every move was with intention and purpose. 
The way sweat glided down the side of your face, your cheeks flushed from fighting, eyes darting with strategy, heavy pants in between dodging and attacking your opponent, the smirk hinted on your face - all of it made Luke’s mind grow flustered. Somehow, he found everything you do attractive.
If he was honest, his mind seemed to be doing nothing lately but think of you, especially when you’re not beside him. The memories he has harvested over your time together only transformed his brain into a cinema, which constantly played montages of you. Every morning, he’d wake up from a dream about you to the sight of you in his arms - that is before he had to sneak out of your cabin back to his. You constantly occupy every cell in his mind, like an uncontainable virus spreading. Yet, for some reason, he was not scared. He welcomed this feeling with his whole arms wide open.
You broke eye contact with Clarisse to look at Luke. Almost instantly, your eyes melted into ones filled with adoration and his own eyes mirrored the same emotions - if not tenfold. 
You were absolutely enamored with how Luke looked at you. Even before dating each other, people have mentioned the eyes he was giving you. But being oblivious, you did not see what they were talking about. However, it all became clear when you started dating. You started noticing how he would look at you like you were a rare artwork he would most likely never see again or a shooting star - a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence kind of thing that left him in awe all the time. He would do it so endearingly as if it would help to absorb every detail of you and imprint them into his memory. His looks have always made you feel loved - like you were the only thing that mattered to him, as if he has not told you this verbally and through actions already. Usually, you’d feel slightly insecure if somebody was staring so intensely at you, but he did it in a way that made you feel like your flaws were created to be loved for. 
However, a gasp escaped your lips as Luke was showered by a wave of the ocean. Everybody else also drew their attention to the head of Hermes’ cabin and the newly claimed Poseidon kid.
When Luke looked back at Percy, he was faced with a sheepish grin.
“I had to get your attention somehow. I tried calling your name like ten times already,” Percy shrugged his shoulder with feigned innocence, but the glint of mischief told Luke that the kid was anything but feeling guilty about soaking him from head to toe. 
“Percy,” Luke groaned as he could feel the fabric of his clothes cling to his body. Percy bashfully chuckled and offered another sheepish look to the counselor who was meant to train him. 
The cool water did offer a temporary fix to the boiling summer heat. But mixing that with sweat, combat, and Luke's long-sleeved shirt underneath was disastrous. The Hermes boy sighed as he slowly took off the bright orange camp shirt. After struggling slightly, he managed to pull the shirt off from over his head. However, the gray shirt he was wearing underneath got pulled up more than slightly from the extra friction between wet fabrics, revealing the majority of his back to Percy and others. 
He did not think much of it until gasps - including yours - could be heard as this happened. Chris even whistled as he and everybody else spotted what Luke did not notice.
“What?” Luke asked as he pulled down his gray shirt and started wringing his camp t-shirt, trying to rid it from being as wet as possible. 
“Damn, did you get mauled by a minotaur or something?” Percy asked. 
Almost immediately, Luke paled at Percy’s words as he realized what the kid was talking about.
Indeed, as Luke’s gray shirt underneath got pulled up, which revealed the majority of his back, this had also put on display the scratches down his back left from nights that he spent with you. Some were evidently old and healing, as seen by how Luke’s skin was patching itself up and matching closer to his skin tone. Others were somewhat freshly red, while a few were like wounds being reopened. To make matters worse, they could spot the occasional crescent shape bruises that were indentations of your nails. 
Considering your guys’ relationship was not a secret, there was no room to deny it if somebody pointed fingers at you. You blushed as people now averted their eyes to you as if this was the most scandalous thing all year. Clarisse and Chris, on the other hand, were both smirking. 
The whole camp knew you were the one who left those scratches there, and you sincerely wish you could dig a hole to hide yourself from all the attention right now.
Luke’s eyes darted to you, and you offered him an awkward smile as your face grew a darker shade of red.
“No, seriously, dude, you gotta get it checked out at the infirmary. How did that even happen?” Percy only continued, somehow actually clueless about the cause of those marks. You could see Annabeth sending Percy a somewhat side-eye from nearby at his words while Grover let out a deep sigh. 
You started approaching the two, hoping you could intervene and save the both of you from this situation.
“Uhm…well,” Luke started, unsure how to even answer the kid or divert the attention elsewhere as his cheeks flushed and ears tinted pink from trying to ignore memories of what you two had done the night before.
The Hermes boy has jokingly sweet-talked you before on how he might walk out shirtless after one of your rendezvous to show off the marks you left on him. Never would you two think that that idea would ever happen like this.
“Yeah, I reckon you should get that checked out,” you decided to say as you reached Luke, settling your hand on Luke’s lower back and greeting Percy. “Thank you for worrying about him.”
“Yeah, no problem. I mean, it must have been quite a minotaur to land that much of a number on him,” Percy somehow carried on and was utterly oblivious to Clarisse and Chris, who almost bursted out laughing at his latest comment. You, on the other hand, squinted your eyes at the kid. You turned to Luke and you could see it in his eyes that the boy was on the verge of laughing as well. You were sure he would have done so if it were not for your glare.
“Well, we best go heal those wounds now, right Luke?” you gave your boyfriend a look, hoping he would get the message to play along.
“Right,” he agreed almost instantly. 
“Alright, bye, Percy,” you hastily spoke, before dragging Luke by his hand away from everybody's eyes.
“Bye guys,” you could hear the kid’s voice as the both of you retreated. It felt like a walk of shame as the semi-crowd parted ways for you two to leave the scene. You immediately let out a deep breath as soon as nobody was near anymore.
“Gods, that was so embarrassing. The kid basically repeatedly called me a minotaur.”
“I mean…you can be my minotaur?” Luke cheekily jested, trying to tease you a bit more over the situation.
“Oh, no, no, no, we’re not making that a thing. No, absolutely not are you ever gonna make that a nickname,” Luke only laughed at your reaction before wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you into a hug. As he did so, you wrapped both your arms around his waist, face colliding with his chest the way it would usually do when you guys cuddle. He gave you a few peppered kisses on your forehead, close to your hairline. 
“They’re never gonna let us live that down, will they?” You asked after letting out a muffled groan against his chest.
“Nope,” Luke admitted. Despite the Hermes boy usually easing away your worries, even he knew this would be the talk around camp for a while. Nevertheless, he unwrapped his arms around you and cupped your face with both hands. Using his callus-filled hands, yet gentle touch, he soothed your furrowed eyebrows by rubbing over them to urge you from scowling.
“But…you know what? I’m kind of glad this happened. Sure, it might be awkward and a tad bit embarrassing. But now, they finally get to see how lucky I am to have been given a chance by such a gorgeous and sweet Demigod. And…” he paused, giving you a quick kiss. “This way, any guy potentially still after you know to keep their hands off.” He cheekily winked at you after saying so. 
Gods, you remember how jealous Luke would get before you were together. It was lowkey hot to see him so riled up. Though, after the both of you got together, you have always reassured him that you had eyes on him and only him. 
“I guess that also means any girls still thinking they could steal you from me would know they have no chance?” you questioned, smiling ear to ear when he nodded eagerly at your words.
“Exactly. That’s a win-win in my book. I’m not embarrassed they saw what you left on me. They could talk for all I care. So stop worrying, or else you’ll start getting wrinkles,” he lightly flicked the area between your furrowed eyebrows. As you were about to complain, he quickly kissed you right where he previously flicked you, and that immediately melted away any bit of feigned irritation you had with him. He chuckled at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows untangling itself.
“Thank you,” you muttered, showing your gratitude towards Luke. 
If Luke had a superpower, it would probably be calming you down. He has always managed to tame your emotions whenever they were drowning you. He was like an anchor to you, always grounded you during chaotic times. Sometimes, you wonder how you got so lucky. 
You peered up at him sweetly, and the look alone made him lean down to capture your lips with his again. You chuckled at his action and kissed him back with just as much passion as he was leaving on your lips. Your hands started playing with the hair close to the nape of his neck. He let out a content sigh while still showing your lips just how much he loved them and you. However, he abruptly pulled away before dropping a question. 
“Are we really going to the infirmary?” Luke hesitantly asked, bringing up your words from earlier. He watched as you gave him an amused look.
“What did you think?” As soon as his eyes met yours, he knew exactly what you wanted. He gave you a sheepish grin before the two of you quietly giggled to each other before walking further away from the training grounds.
Let's just say you two did not follow through with your words of going to the infirmary, and neither were you tending to his “wounds”.
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